There is buried treasure in the cliffs near us.When we long for a good hunt,
it's off to the steep slopes of Junk Beach to find old bottles and rusty spoons,
and to Glass Beach for smooth jewels of those same bottles and the hints of their past lives.
Time at work.
a bottle thrown on a cliff side dump shatters,
to slip slowly downwards,
shifting, sifting
slumped into sand and drifts,
beckoned by waves
slumped into sand and drifts,
beckoned by waves
collecting,
lulling,
pounding hardness
into small soft gleams of the past,
fuzzy windows of what-was
pounding hardness
into small soft gleams of the past,
fuzzy windows of what-was
pocketed up by seekers
and taken home.
and taken home.
our light-holders.
color-keepers.
rememberings.
jewels.
4 comments:
Such colors. Sand massaged, sun soaked, washed, salted. Time and tide tiddlywinks.
Nice, dad! I like the wordplay - and tiddlywinks! ha!
Makes me feel like I'm soaking up an ocean breeze. Thanks!
Kjersten, I bet you would enjoy romps out to these beaches then. It's a good hour's walk each way, and we return home wind-brushed, weary and content, and rich with jewels.
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