Lifted by ocean wave they slammed against rock
until crushed and scattered.
Tossed and churned out of control-
edges melt into powdery, mottled, sculpted forms
reflecting a subtle softer light.
from dull grey to cobalt blue, sea foam white.
My edges, once sharp and eager
are now softened and tempered.
becoming pumiced and pitted
with each approaching wave.
Shuffling along with millenniums of
quartz, granite, and basalt through
high and low tide.
By the wink of moonlight
traveling dark waters bravely till
It must be the reason I gather them season upon season,
trying to find all the fragments
that have found the shore once more
as the ocean’s muddy fingers toss them back upon the sand.
I gather them in baskets so that I can remember.