Low Tide

This poem describes a pleasant and somewhat meditative walk along the beach, making discoveries along the way.

 

I slowly walk along the shore.

The sand is still wet

and clings to the bottom of my feet,

and squishes between my toes.

It is low tide, and early morning.

The sea has left treasures behind.

I find shells of all kinds,

and smooth, polished rocks.

I collect my bounty in a plastic bag,

not a fitting wrap for these small treasures.

I find sand dollars,

and interesting, twisted bits of wood.

I stop, eyes shaded by my hand,

the sun is slowing rising,

and I see a dark object up ahead.

By its silhoette I recognize it.

I run, before any other gathers spot it.

This is the treasure I longed for.

This is the treasure I will keep forever.

I use the corner of my blouse to polish off the sand.

It is a nautilus shell - beautiful, spiralling, pearlescent.

This is the sea's gift to me!