I always wondered where the sand dabs hide.
They’re quicker than me,
and sly. Even though I scramble beneath the surface,
they scamper through the sand, scurrying to outrun
the waves licking the shore smooth.
I suppose that’s like when
We Were Eight,
carefully clutching a glass jar
full of fireflies, holes poked in the top
so they wouldn’t die.
Asking Dad how it is a
single jar can light up an
Small hands fingering
the faint rose shimmer
of the tiniest shell,
watching the sun’s reflection
slowly fade in its curve.
Shannon Alter is a commercial real estate manager, speaker and instructor based in Southern California. She is constantly in search of new travel adventures and is the author of two short books, numerous articles and a marketing column.
The Ekphrastic Review
Find a writer, artist, or poem, etc. by searching here: