Walking the Wrack Line

The quiet rush of the oncoming night, Slanted the evening’s fast fading light. We walk as two, on the long quiet shore, Hoping for sea glass, or trinkets, or more. We walk close together and side by side, To see what we’ll see in the slacking tide. We leave far behind us, the taut daily strife, Walking the wrack line for snippets of life. We find only dead seaweed, laid in rows, But we forge ahead, as one never knows. We keep at our searching, till dark descends, Then melt into the mist, as another day ends.