A warm morning on the beach;
the sunrise bellows tangerine and lavender
where sea and sky become one.
I walk in sand-silenced footsteps
along the shoreline with a gathering bucket in hand,
listening to breakers crash and the cry of gulls.

Above pelicans swoop and soar above the salt spray,
waves uncover a beach harvest
tumbling over and over in the bubbly foam.
I retrieve sparkles of sea glass and shell
battered against a piece of gray, gnarled driftwood.
Crumbled sand dollars mingle
with yellow cockles and pearl oysters
swept in from the overnight tides.

I bend to scrutinize as if I were the looking glass
picking up what rolled in as I slept.
I arise to search the face of a fisherman
out early casting his line into the surf
needing a fortune for another day.

He says, “I need a fortune for another day;
the sea is my livelihood.”
I say, “For me, she is a long lost friend
to whom I return.”