Feb 18, 2010 - Assigment: a poem about love, compassion, and child-like curiosity (but not really)

Red bucket.
White Sand.
   A clamming trowel lingers, gritty, in my hand.
   Knees pressed deep beneath the grade.  
   I came for clams today.

       Wet, wet water.
 Cool blue.
    Sunburn sitting on my neck and ears.
    In morning time I came for clams -
    I came to dig the sand.

        Naked feet.
 Bare hands.
     At first light came the clamming winds.
     Salt smells hovered in the air.
     They called me down from long grass hills
     To the bathing basin of earth and man.
       Fingers buried.
 Toes embedded.
     My trowel gouged the damply grade.
     But all I found where empty shells,
     Shards of pearlescent black
     And blue and white and gray.

Gray-and-white-and-blue-and-black;
Black-and-white-and-blue-and-gray.
I found no clams today.
        Red horizon.
 Swelling night.
     Scattered lights of golden sway.

     A fan of thready, spreading clouds.
     A night - I found no clams today.