Turtles at Sanibel

Nothing startled me awake tonight, no dream 

or other need.  

I simply opened my eyes. 

I could just make out the abandon of clothes 

in a bank on the floor, 

palm-held glasses on the bedside table, 

dark wine barely touched, 

the whirr of fan, a sound of surf just beyond 

the sliding screen door.

Lying here, I think of the beach 

as it is right now.

There is peace in the roll of water, 

the ruffle of sea grass in the wind,

a scattering of unbroken shells on the beach,

and the scuttle of hatchlings towards ebb tide 

finding haven on tiny rafts of algae 

that will carry them away 

like refugees clinging to the dark.    

© Susan Muse, 2011  

At the beach; photo by Tony Russell