The Wave

When the weakened transparent wave,
tired from its failed surge
toward that place
where the high tide would sit,

raked over the small shells
deposited from bigger brothers’ grumblings,

the small shells sang and sparkled like rubbed crystal rims.

The mud-sand sank them deeper
and the sand dollars, starfish, and hermits
stabbed away from their new sinkholes,

back to the surface to chime in with the choir again.