Coconut Grove quam serena

he drew away from her, this son of the sea, but not before she had gleaned his scent. he was fragrant with salt and with the lashing winds of the north, of the sand underfoot, and of dark things within the unsearched waters. son .. no -- perhaps he was king, and this strand his throne. he certainly seemed so, and to the gentle dominance of his inquiry did eshamun gladly set herself beneath him, seeing no reason to assert herself upon what she assumed to be his land.

but she did not speak, enjoying the sensuousness of their more base communication; her tongue lolled, and against her widened flanks her tail swayed, once, twice. after a moment, eshamun's gaze turned to the ocean,  then swung to the barred ghost before her. was this his domain?