Field guide No. 263
The shell audience at twilight
Waiting for someone to dive.
Rows of scallop shells sit in neat lines on the floor of a drained hillside pool at dusk, facing a red diving board. The show is late, but nobody is leaving.
Field noteSomeone with a bucket of scallops and a free evening could stage this. Nobody has, yet.
Also possible, also breaking nothing
A kind of patienceSwap the bob for a peach and the clock still swings, just slightly off. Somebody simply hasn’t.
Roots under the spare stepRoots take the shape of whatever’s missing, given decades. Slow masonry, but masonry.
Moon leaveBalloons come in every shape, moons included. Sleepiness is printed on, presumably.
Low tide laundryFish-print sheets are a choice, not a contradiction. They simply haven’t been hung here yet.