They sat, locked fingers across their knees,
curled against their chest. The sand uncomfortable-
gritty in their teeth, irritating their scalp,
in their pants; little red ants climbing on their bare
skin. Shells lie broken, a hazard, they've been told.

There is something beautiful about the way
the sea comes back to kiss the shoreline,
taking things but also leaving little surprises
behind- some gifts returned like a spoilt child
or some deity unhappy with the offered selection,
and some new unopened treasures brough in from
cousins abroad, as if an angry mother still
serving food to misbehaving children.