A battlefield of mud and stone and shell.
Some strands of kelp.
A plank of driftwood.
And a moving floor of tiny crabs.
The ocean retreated
and this is what it left us with.
Detritus.
The grayness of a Maine sky.
At the dock,
two boats are surprised
to find themselves grounded.
A gull pecks
in hollows
topped by foam.
A tiny fish flaps uncontrollably
in breathless air.
Just what the bird was hoping for.
A living leftover.
