Haiku roundup (scuba to zealots).
the salt taste of air
your shadow running through me
at the scuba cove
foghorn on the point
creeping through the night window
loneliness echoes
tugging on his shirt
as though it would hold him back
the toddler running
the hide-and-seek spray
fumbling for binoculars
to glimpse the humpback
the hand-drawn fence sign
"please no religious zealots,
not of any kind"
