Pink seafoam leaves odd gifts for me to find:
a puffed-up man-o-war, a mermaid’s purse,
empty lady slippers, Sargasso weed,
as if these things could fill my human needs.
I push my toes beneath the cold, damp sand,
observe the ocean’s purple evening.
A loggerhead rides up and heaves her bulk
to dig a hole, deposit future in the dark.
Until she’s done and slips back out to sea
I sit and match her labored breath to mine.
This sea: a Chevy engine revving high
reminding me how everything’s design.