Sea Glass
Through flowering iceplant,
past salt-tipped roses
we go, my sister and I,
down shaky wooden steps
to the beach, where we
crouch and crawl upon the sand,
searching for gleams
from pieces of glass
smoothed and worn
by Pacific tides.
No fragment too small, we find
the light green and the dark,
amber, ruby and rare deep blue,
until the sun sets with a flash
and fog draws near.
We share our gems,
pour them into two tall bottles
that will sparkle
on sunny windowsills, hers
here and mine back East.
Both of them remain half-filled,
kaleidoscopes of moments
that cannot be added to
now that my eyes are failing
and she has lost her taste for treasure.
Ruth Holzer is the author of eight chapbooks, most recently Living in Laconia (Gyroscope Press) and Among the Missing (Kelsay Books). Her poems have appeared in Blue Unicorn, Faultline, Slant, Poet Lore, Connecticut River Review and Plainsongs, among other journals and anthologies. She has received several Pushcart Prize nominations.
“Bottle found at McNee Ranch State Park, Montana, California.”