Sand around my ankles, warm from the sun
Small shells and pebbles dig into my feet
I scan the sea tossed litter along the tide line.
I never know what Treasures
The sea has left for me

Seaweed coils around old kelp bladders.
I can smell the salt and the seaweed sun heated
Its scent rises in the afternoon breeze
Even blindfolded, that smell would tell me
Where I am.

I see a little crab
Scampering along the waters edge
Hiding by the waters edge, as my shadow falls across him.
His side wise path draws my gaze
To the first treasure lying there

A small piece of shell
Not perfect, scarred in fact
And broken, with rainbows glinting
In the sunshine
From mother of pearl

What used to be a dwelling place
For a mussel, not graced with tall columns
As the ruins in Greece are
Yet still the same haunting air
Of owners long gone to dust.

I hold it in my hand and feel the smoothness
Mother of pearl against my cheek.
One creature’s defense against the roughness of the world.
O, if only my own layers of protection, prickly and defiant
Could match this elegance