On the rocky shores of Owen Beach,
where the pebbles rattle in the waves,
where the surf is dark and foamy white,
she hugged my knees, afraid.
She asked to go; I asked to stay.
She sat awhile on my lap and found
five shells, a nugget of glass.
We gathered sticks, searched for wrens,
and, with a start,
she ran to the tide
to splash in the evening sound.
© 2014 ekwetzel. All Rights Reserved.