light on the cinnamon—
corrugated sand
sculpted by waves
spills into my shoes.
I wade toward the surf-wetted interface
where strolling will be easier.
My visit will be brief hosted by the
heartbeat of surf
spicy scent of seawater
feathers of a breeze.
I reach down for a scallop shell.
I feel the smoothness of its pearl
and the roughness of its surface—
gentleness inside
toughness outside
like most of us.
I stop to watch
black-bellied plovers
glean the surf
Bonaparte’s gulls
sunbathe on a sand spit
brown pelicans
dive-bomb for dinner
Forester’s terns
frolic on air
and I am at one with them
until the tour bus leaves.
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| Hermit Crab by Jan Haffley |
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