Poetry About Crabs

Crabs stitch sideways tracks across the sand. Each carries a small red shield into daylight. Beneath wet stones, the youngest disappear. The tide rehearses its return in silver lines. Nothing here walks straight toward survival. The shore makes room for every kind of motion.

The scene turns slowly in another light. Beneath wet stones, the youngest disappear. Edges soften while the question sharpens. Nothing here walks straight toward survival. Nothing is solved by looking away. The shore makes room for every kind of motion.

Crabs stitch sideways tracks across the sand. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. Beneath wet stones, the youngest disappear. It returns us to tide pools, shells, sideways motion, survival, moonlit shores, and life between land and sea. Nothing here walks straight toward survival. The day continues with a more attentive heart.