Sand speaks on this boiling day in August

Do you see us as individuals, or a collective as you finger-rake our dry whiteness in search of treasures, hot your toes to the sea? What about colour, sameness, and what of touch: fine, silken, claggy, extra-coarse. Consider us under the microscope: honeycomb, pockmarked, smooth-bashed, glassy. We’ve been here for eons. You pile us on each other, dig holes in us, see the world in a grain of sand. For the record, we consider you a collective.