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Pocketful of Hardened Suns

When I think of what to write often the ocean comes to mind Endless sea of pretty blue and stretched out horizon lines, impossibly flat Yet when I actually arrive it isn't the sea that my eyes take a liking too Rather it's just below the waves my mind does go... the little trinkets beside my toes Fossils of sea creatures, alive one - and now, even in death - you can see the beauty of their features Seashells of every shape and hue (even if they're familiar, somehow they're always new) Some are inky black or cobalt blue, creamy whites and nutty browns (pretty oranges, too!) Some are hefty like a throwing stone, others quite miniscule, blending in with the sand Some are fragile -breaking easier than the waves- others are like a hardened sunrise Their well defined rays, my fingers always finds themselves, unbidden as an eye-blink (as unthinking as a smile) I like the clanky sound they make when lightly shook in a mason jar I shake them like dice in cupped hands (loaded, in my case... I don't gamble with a good time) Yeah, when it comes to the beach I'm like a kid at a candy store My treats aren't in bins, but glisten on the sandy shore I scoop them in my hands, still wet with the sea Stick them in my pockets, if the case need be (and you know it always does if I'm being honest) Where it gets me, I don't know, but, please, just one more keepsake! (this simple joy I try to harness) I pick up a second then a third while still admiring the first A dozen or two, is only of mild concern (a wagon-full is even worse) Yes It is an obsession through and through I could be just as happy with one as with a thousand (maybe happiness isn't something you can attach a number too) And I don't know why I do it, treasure to me (but not for thee) And even rarity isn't an excuse You can pick them up by the shovel, they aren't difficult to find You can count a hundred alone within arms reach (maybe joy doesn't have to be rare, but can be as common as clouds... maybe it's not something "out there", but somewhere near, even to the ground) Near as an object lying beside your feet Near as a thought that came to you... ...while walking on the beach

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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Date: 6/20/2021 10:42:00 AM
As a fellow seashell collector this piece spoke to me, Timothy! Cool to see you posting on the soup still! "As unthinking as a smile" love that! Always, Laura
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Date: 6/3/2021 7:19:00 AM
Absolutely enchanting. I was able to enjoy this walk along with you, dear. So many truths packed in your lines. Gives me food for thought...what an ending.
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Date: 5/30/2021 3:28:00 AM
‘Near as an object lying beside your feet Near as a thought that came to you...’ Yes Timothy you have captured the spirit of joy in these delightful lines. You act like me on the beach. lol SuZ
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Date: 5/21/2021 11:54:00 PM
I am glad your talent is below the clouds but not under the sand. Keep them coming. Particularly liked this one. Enjoy your weekend David in NZ
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Date: 5/13/2021 6:19:00 AM
Reading this brought me joy. I think you are right, we chase after what is rare when in fact the true things of value are the simple pleasures that surround us. Sadly many are to busy chasing the rare to know it. Outstanding writing my friend.
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Date: 5/12/2021 9:07:00 PM
Tim, You made me want to vacation on the beach. We go every year and take the grandchildren. I fish a little, but mostly we search the shore for the same little treasures as you. We could walk past one another and never know because we’re focused on the sand beneath our feet. Happy writing my friend.
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Date: 5/11/2021 2:31:00 PM
A very enjoyable write, one I can relate to in an oblique way: When I stroll the local beachs it's not for shells but for lost coins and jewelry (wedding rings in particular, even water sogged empty wallets, bracelets, etc. Admittedly I do much better financially in parking lots findinf pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters, and an occasion $20 bill! BTW, great to see you writing again. Best to you. Maurice
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Date: 5/8/2021 8:56:00 PM
It sounds as though the beach brings out the boy in you Tim. We always had fun growing up at the beach looking for shells, each one a treasure. I have found other treasures at the beach as well like jewelry. One time I found a gold wheel necklace with gemstones in it. No one was around or I would have tried to find the owner.I still have that necklace. I enjoyed your poem my friend. Blessings Connie
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Date: 5/1/2021 9:22:00 AM
Timothy, Your woodpeckers brought me here to this doorstep of nature. The title intrigued me too. Pockets hold a special meaning in many of my writes. You bring a better coastal buffet than the one I'm used to. I could feel the wet sand between toe's; that vague alarm at the approaching foamy waves. Wonder at which of the Earth's oceans your prized keepsakes would best represent. My pick would be Southern. Happy trails. -Richard
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Date: 4/26/2021 2:40:00 AM
It's a lovely obsession though. We have very few beaches in Malta surrounded by the sea - no ocean. Lovely thoughts though.
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Date: 4/25/2021 9:04:00 PM
Very interesting and well-written, Timothy. I especially enjoyed your asides in parentheses. Give us some more!
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