Green glass sits in the rounded stones 

And the waves come up cold

From the north, salt water 

Coming in icy 

From the swell off the boats. 

I want to say she does not see me here

Picking my way across the

Sand bar home, 

But her captain smirks at my wet feet

When the tide chased my heels

Towards the dock

The same as 

He did when I told him

Where I wAs going this afternoon. 

These treasures that I would bring

Home to you

To form the housing to protect 

Our hearts 

Are made brittle by the ice forming

At the edges.