Beach Comber

I walk the beach

looking down

My focus so keen

oblivious to anything

except what lies

near my feet

I'm looking for shells

mother of pearl

little treasures of the sea

I find more

an apple core

a gummy bear

and what looks like 

a whole jar of 

maraschino cherries

dumped and now

being washed to and

fro with the incoming tide

I find my treasures

Occasionally I look up

and startled

I'm back in a noisy world of

families by the sea

An Indian traveler

who is wearing men's underwear

as a bathing suit

I wonder if he knows this

He poses for a picture

taken by his friend who is

fully clothed

A fair-skinned baby

toddles toward the waves

a thousand watchful eyes

could not protect her

like the mother who

scoops her up

The sun is setting low

on the horizon

the air is cooler

My fist is full of shiny gems

Back to the world

to the squeals of children

splashing in tidal pools

I pick up a discarded can

of ginger ale and

put it in the trash

filled with broken chairs, 

umbrellas and floats, that 

have lost their ability 

hold air

I walk home happy.

cDeby White Jizi  2013