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Behind the Green Pines            By Al Eluya Translated by the author Early at dawn billions of photons align for the dance on The Saler’s Beach twinkling sand. Past noon, millions of photons dance frantically possessed    by the heat of an Helios, that extracts and vaporizes the toasted silica flour of the trampled beach. Later on, after five, hundreds of photons fall exhausted after their unbridled  and favorite San Vito’s Dance. At dusk a hundred photons  thin out like nylon fibers in old winter scarves, weak oscillating sparkles, already incapable of dancing. When the night invades the beach a dozen remaining photons drag themselves to face west, entranced and on their knees, praying for the return of their god before the inscrutable altar of the sea.

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