Tidepools
This poem is dedicated to the students I taught through the pandemic of 2020/21.
At first, we feel the calm breeze.
Sea spray misting: cooling skin, air, rock.
Rivulets skimming heels, seaweed wrapping toes, tiny crabs burrowing, racing, burrowing; we watch, laughing.
Waves build. Mist becomes drops. Drops become showers.
Showers evolve and we cling to mossy rocks racing to higher ground.
Rising waters lap, threaten, tease... Teaching us the way of the water.
Our footprints fill up. Become basins on the beach.
Crab and seaweed, starfish and baby shark, sea anemone and urchins tucked under rocks, are now more-than-dampened; submerged and co-mingling, in this fleeting, newly-formed ecosystem.
Another wave comes--the basin gets repopulated.
Where is the starfish? Count snails again--only 4? Wait--where’s the shark? Oh! What is that? Cool!
The sand drinks. Then sinks.
The animals settle.
The third wave comes--
who joins us now?
We watch.
The waves wind down.
The tide pools are formed and their residents will remain constant for the next 6 hours.
Taking attendance: in transaction--there are those who will eat or be eaten; in transformation--there are those who are coexisting and cohabitating.
What experience will the next wave bring?
This poem is dedicated to the students I taught through the pandemic of 2020/1