Sand Crabs

The ocean pulls up, pulls away, hisses,
leaving tiny air holes in the sand;
I am fourteen, in love with creation,
full of life and dreaming possibilities;

Still on the beach I lie, slim belly
pressed down against earth’s beating heart,
looking not at the tossing sea, the foam
and sand sucking out with the tides;

I am watching instead the minutiae
as it dances before my bright brimming eyes
trained on a world underfoot, place familiar
and yet not, Alice’s drink-me bottle
clutched in my imagination;

Out of tiny cavities pop the crabs,
size of my thumbnail, eyes swiveling
on longish stems, scuttling sideways
to a clear and shining surface;

What they are about I will never know,
for in the blink of a moment, back they dart
to the safety of the known and commence,
tiny clawfuls at a time, to toss up overhead
the sand encroaching upon their inner sanctum;

Then once again the sea washes ashore,
sweeping hand over flat hand,
smoothing sand free of footprints
while the crabs, for all I know,
seek retreat in the epicenter
of the earth.

all photos ©2020 Bela Johnson

10 thoughts on “Sand Crabs

  1. “. . . while the crabs, for all I know,
    seek retreat in the epicenter
    of the earth.”

    Ah! So that’s where they go!

    You have cleared that up for Tubularsock!

    Thank you. And wonderful poem once again.

      1. Yes Crazy is what is being created… I am trying not to let it be my reality! 🙂 So we will rise above it all Bela, and just BE ourselves.. Much love my friend ❤ Special hugs your way

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