From the Beach
The child wanted to bring back prickly come-and-go foam,
A yacht and the horizon it slid along.
After a little rage he settled for a dead crab and a feather.
The grandmother selected a perfect scallop shell,
Capable of holding the ocean in its pearly scoop,
Full of past and future gilded beach days with the boy.
Back in her courtyard he laid his loot in his dump truck
And covered it with sand and stones.
Brrrrm. Vrrrroom. Brrrm.