an echo of hurricane passed
kelp thrown like confetti upon the shore
battered and at rest, sunken in
like sand dollars and seashells
no more a treasure, now desiccated
under the sun
as the ebb tide, withdrawing
like a fickle lover’s hand
before the passing of a new fancy
all these quiet glimmerings, fading
abalone and mother of pearl cracking
quiet sounds of shattering under
the weight of springtime tourist feet
castaway, far away and out of sight
left to know silence without succor
the depths, like a dream, departed
the silty, sanguine beauty, no more
just aged, ancient remnant upon the shore