04-26-2015, 02:59 PM
A child follows the tide
burrowing with fingers
where bubbles in the sand show
here are pipis. Soon her skirt
is filled with shells, plump,
curved, perfect.
Dreaming of the feast of them
cooked in sea-water, sprinkled
with vinegar, peppered,
chewy, salty, sweet meat
she heaps her harvest
in the middle of the beach,
bends and gathers more
until again her skirt is full
and turns
to add them to her tally –
the heaped treasure is gone;
the pipis have hidden,
the beach lies empty.
burrowing with fingers
where bubbles in the sand show
here are pipis. Soon her skirt
is filled with shells, plump,
curved, perfect.
Dreaming of the feast of them
cooked in sea-water, sprinkled
with vinegar, peppered,
chewy, salty, sweet meat
she heaps her harvest
in the middle of the beach,
bends and gathers more
until again her skirt is full
and turns
to add them to her tally –
the heaped treasure is gone;
the pipis have hidden,
the beach lies empty.