A poem written where land meets the ocean.
Nurture
Are we rescuing
the shells
from the grinding waves
and the homogenizing sun,
or starving he beach
of milky sand?
The oceanic currents
provide a harvest
of food and thought
beneath a blurred band of stars.
Sifting through
the broken and intact,
eyes twitch
for sea olives
(not edible),
slipper shells
(not wearable),
silent fiddler crab claws,
and lion's paws,
whose fierceness
dulls with the tides.
-Robert L. Jackson III
