The Shell Maiden
I come from the rain of sky and sea, caught
on the web of a shoreline daisy, braced low
and spinning in carnival delight with the
kiss of Pacifica’s mist.
I come from the company of driftwood and seashells, bleached white as a wedding train waiting to be worn.
The waves roll like a wedding march
announcing the union of land and deep blue dreams.
They bring a dowry of tangled vines and sand dollar spines,
and my heart says YES to this sailors treasure.
I come from the flutter of dry seaweed,
no longer rich with Oceana’s brine, and yet
adorning the beach with seafoam flare,
like rice and petals clinging to the foot of a runaway bride.
Bring me the delicacies of your wedding feast, snapped up in the yellow of a jealous lover’s bill, for I am treading softly here on honeymoon beds of ancient sand,
inscribing moon colored vows
on the framework