I'm digging through
buckets of sea glass and
agates
I found on the
beach
prying them out of the bitter, cold
sand,
          -  that ends at
white lines -
and concrete

The wind's in my face
and it's a furious hunt
to the point where I almost can't
   breathe

I'm on a continuous search
my knees caked in
dirt

seeking
     la joie  
           de
                vivre.