Shells

Despite getting over this flu’s fever—and managing to stay awake all day!—crazy periods of dizziness keep washing over me like waves. This makes discovering yet another poem almost more problematic than letting a raging fever power Creation’s bark toward shore.

The Final Week of this 100-poem marathon would seem to demand a kick, but marathoners know kicks can’t usually be summoned after all that. Gutting it to the line and over remains a worthy goal. Perhaps a joyous sprint of several paces? It will have to do.


Ocean Isle Beach. November 2007.
every beach day I turned over
rocks, peered into tidal pools,
walked wet sands while my head
defined my body's right angle.
shells, creatures, treasure—call them
by their true name: hopes. I planned
no plans, no marine aquarium, no
extensively labeled collection.
"to espy" my only goal, one not easily
satisfied. three score, more, yet still
my mind scours its sands searching
for treasures. when one's former
brilliance dims, when nothing
can be espied, nothing plucked
even momentarily, no triumph
exclaimed—this little death brings
disproportionate chill. Would
to have not known this stage
when audiences depart quietly,
embarrassed for the actor who
cannot seem to remember his lines.

94/100
100 poems in 100 days

Two sides of St. Augustine

Look To The East, From The Sand…

St. Augustine Beach. March 2026.
St. Augustine Beach. March 2026.
Above St. Augustine Beach. March 2026.
St. Augustine Beach. March 2026.

One Day, In A Room With A View…

On March 2nd, the dawn struck the city first…

Dawn hits St. Augustine. March 2, 2026.

…and slowly made its way across the Matanzas River toward us…

Matanzas River at dawn. March 2, 2026.
The Matanzas River and south-central St. Augustine at dawn. March 2, 2026.

Traffic into the city (and drivers) snarled every time the drawbridge rose…

March 2, 2026.

Florida shorebirds used the shifting shadows to hide their predation…

A Great Egret stalks its prey. March 2, 2026.
Little Blue Heron. March 2, 2026.

Some worked the waters together…amicably or not…

Great Egret and White Ibis. March 2, 2026.

After a “look to the East” one craves liquid refreshments. St. Augustine obliged. Meanwhile, the day drew to a close…

March 2, 2026.

The same boats illumined at dawn changed in the reddening skies…

March 2, 2026.

Night descended. The Bridge of Lions looked similar to the previous night, but not the same…

The Bridge of Lions at night. March 2, 2026.

Lights from The Bridge of Lions danced across the water as we headed to bed. Goodnight, St. Aug. Thanks for the day…

March 2, 2026.