Sea Glass

It sits on my window,
catching afternoon light,
shining and glinting dully,
Sea glass-
fragments held in the mouth of a sculpted fish,
worn by sand and curling waves, 
passed down from my great aunt in great green-blue chunks,
from a time when they were more the ocean’s trifle than treasure.
Another jar sits on the shelf,
smaller shards, hand picked,
gathered in summers past, 
amongst the sand and the salt. 
This jar is splashed with brown and white,
only flecks of navy and indigo, like sapphire stones in a riverbed. 
It smells like memories, 
like childhood, 
like the beach and the glee of bending down to scoop up something precious,
just for you. 
It’s scattered in the garden too, 
Little seashells filled with the baubles and trinkets of the ocean,
Pebbles and snail shells and chunks of rounded glass, 
Additional pops of color in the planted stone wall.
Seaglass is time spent together, 
with family, 
laughing and relaxing in the summer sun,
sky bright overhead and ground warm below. 
ever year, another piece clinks into the jar, the garden, the glass fish, 
and another small smile spreads across my face.