Amy brings in an egg from the coop, it’s warm, slightly speckled, dotted with dimples. She shows me how to candle an egg, takes
Surf’s edge, the shallow trough I dig for her to lie in, mound high with wet, heavy sand. Több, she says, több, for me
Come in now, my mother gestures wildly from shore. I almost hear the tinge of fear in her voice. I have ventured out again