Sea shell hunts

Katie:  are pink dolphins true?

She said while gazing into a morning beach.

Lexie's gaze just as dreamy,

Replies :  I know they are.

And I can only smile and hear god breathing in the tide.

When lexie found a sea shell

She holds it up high for a treasure

And I see a small broken shell hardly worth keeping

With fields of others strewn out before our toes

I would rather keep walking and spot from up high

Searching for special stand outs at a glance

But katie picks up scraps of shells and inspects.

They will be kept for hardly any reason

Their worth is in their existence

And they find excuses for significance:

A hole, a speckle, a bumpy ridge that would make a neat imprint

A pretty pink, a smooth side, a perfect swirl

When these attributes get used up they grow more creative

-a little seat for a ladybug to sit on,

-a river stone that skipped all the way to the shore

It isn't hard for them

It isn't hard at all

To find a reason to cherish every beach shell.

At the sea, wonder is common

And I remember grandma

That at her passing

She began to ask  questions about the shore

-and she the Nebraskan native, lived her entire life landlocked-

Claimed to hear water pouring onto a beach

- where was she? Had she been here before?

And then a calm, final comment:

I hear the ocean.

Like one of the shells,

It washed over her and silence covered with depths of peace.

And the memory washes me now

softening the Calloused pain

That once ached eternally

I find so many things connected-

The sea, the shells, my grandmother and my daughters

And quiet loves I never let my heart live through

They float before me with a oneness,

Merging pain and joys together into spiritual swells.

The skyline before me is vast and plain with holy simplicity.

The story of the tide and the comfort of the shore

- I am swept into humanity.

Voices awaken, people emerge,

And I am no longer alone.

they walk with heads down,

looking for sea shells.