Sand Pirate

He once walked where waves policed the sands,

Called him unlawful,

Whereby, being the person he was,

Played the game,

Became the thief of shells

As tides receded

Leaving such a bounty.

Waiting to adorn his window shelves,

Where the sun’s light would feed his collection with life

“A bank vault of precious gems,” he called them,

Crossed-barred Vensu, cat’s Paw, Scallops,

Yello Cockle, Rose petal Tellin, Buttercup Lucine, et al.

And with suffering

Did his innocent collecting bestow.

Barefoot scrapes climbing the rocks to home,

Grinding the salt of sea into the absorbent skin of a criminal,

Making knuckles pink with the burn of brine

As he carried buckets of reward

Into the house,

To the basin for cleansing,

To the window shelves for sustained life,

Displayed for any and all who would gaze upon their beauty.

For that weekly sojourn,

He lived the isolation of an ocean pillager,

Hiding from the anger of the sea.

So worth it,

He said,

As the sun set,

Its cloak of warmth

Resting upon his treasures.