Somebody left a poem in our beach book in early July of 1999. As I often do, I was reading back in the volumes to see what we were doing this same week in other years. This poem struck me as a summing up of beach time for us…
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and Maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
As small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.
Keep in touch.