At the beach
brave children
hunt for crabs.
Waves chase
shells onto the sand,
and their white foam hands
play catch with fish.
Their fingers
rearrange the earth.
The sea beyond stretches
to the edge of anything,
pulled tight like cloth,
where only a dim line
unravels liquid and gas,
blue and deep blue.
The children and the waves take turns
carving their initials
into wet sand
with their toes.
Nearby tide pools capture
sunken treasures
and sometimes
the unwanted surprise
of slick dead fish.
In the car on the way home,
the children lick
memories from their fingers.