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Along the Shore

August 1, 2018

Along the Shore


We walk hand in hand between the concrete pilings, mindful

Of broken beer bottles and the occasional raccoon-gnawed dead fish.

She squeals as we step into the water, lets go of my hand

To chase after the tiny silver fry darting away from her shadow.


Just a few feet away from us, the sand slopes sharply

Into a pocket of darkness. I point out the deep blue shadows

Of danger just ahead of us, warn her to stay close, stay right by me.

She asks me if there are monsters in those depths.


Some great river snake coiled at the bottom of the murky sinkhole

Giant sturgeons slumbering beyond the fishermen’s reach.

She asks about these things in such hushed, reverent tones,

That I am aglow with delight at this tiny glimpse

Of the world inside my daughter’s head.


—Holly Day


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