Harvest of the Hunter's Moon
Must have been a really high tide last night - a great shelf carved out along the bottom of the dunes. Beaches that had been sand were stones, and stony beaches had turned to sand. They were all swept clean of their familiar small landmarks, and the sea had sorted its possessions - a great pile of round blue stones, a small one of empty orange limpet shells all pointing north, and one of a multiplicity of all things plastic.

Walking back the tide was high again - there were no beaches at all and the waves were reaching their hands back into this mound to take it away to other places.

I came home with a tiny red telephone and the number 6 ..or is it 9?