Sea-Drift

I look at the pictures rafting by;
I peer into souls and think:
There's some potential.
The moment passes,
Another piece of driftwood passes,
Destined for some other beach.
The emptiness
Of this sandy cove
In contrast to so many other
Overcluttered, trash-strewn wastes,
May imply sterility.
If so, it isn't self-imposed.
The spareness is directly linked
To currents, tides, and serendipitous
Surges from a far-off place
Which bring the promise of something new:
Exotic flotsam, fragrant flowers,
Detritus from a Malay shrine,
A crate of dragon fruit, or even
An actual dragon, green and gold
And breathing fire.
A plenitude of delectables--
Multifarious, unique, arcane--
Gliss by, unsnatchable from the shore;
Hence, the cleanliness of this bayfront,
Hence, the barrenness of this strand.