Give me those weak tides, those awkward, lazy risers. Slow water at the edge of the grass. She aint that low and she aint lettin' no one in either. Just barely covering those shells. Can you see em'? Fat water and sun filtered through fog. Can you hear a little movement in that glare? Sounds like JJ Cale. Movin' slow, lookin' good, with nowhere in particular to go.
Cheers,

LC Journal

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