Bone Hunters
We go to the shore
to find the bones
of our lives.
To remember why
we're happy together.
Remind ourselves
the reason for all we do
between the rise and fall
of days, weeks, months.
I put a pot of jelly
on the table in the sun.
Crushed black cherries glisten.
Sea sounds surround the curtain,
tug it out the window,
tickle its white belly.
Gulls beg midair
for scraps of toast.
We toss leftover crusts
into the scavenger filled sky.
The hectic tussle
is almost frightening;
feathers, wings, beaks.
A couple sharing pretzels
on a sandy blanket
lures them away.
The paper remains
cylindrically sheathed
outside the door.
Francesca knows
she'll make a better tip
if she passes this room today.
Skeletons rattle beneath sheets;
shells upon the beach.
Muscles flex, relax,
flex, relax as flesh
trembles to life
upon the back
of the incoming tide.
~*~
Cheerwell, Mary :O)
=====
Good Cheer & Be Well,
Maryann Hazen Stearns
"Under The Limbo Stick" http://www.geocities.com/Faerhart/
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