Hague UF dairy farm

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Star Lake boat ride

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shell collection

Walking along the beach on Sanibel or Marco Island

Where the gentle Gulf of Mexico waves wash ashore

That’s where the shell collectors go

Heads down, scanning for the perfect specimen.

Finding an intact sand dollar so delicate

That is the top prize gleaned at low tide

But no matter how many shells are taken

Still the next wave brings more.

Reading Shelley’s new book last night

I came to a passage that set my thoughts adrift

When the lead character was taken aback

And paused to collect her thoughts.

I thought about all the variations of meaning.

I thought about the shells as thoughts

Collected on the beach like a meditation

Wave upon wave unfurling onto the shore.

I am collecting my own thoughts

Experiencing a new stage of life

When I am free to think about whatever

And do only what interests me.

Collective has the same root

A word with powerful associations.

Knowing Shelley’s world view I expect

This book will hinge on mass struggles.

Where we are staying now there are signs all over

Against a real estate development scheme

Set out on the front lawns with slashed red circles

Over the words “Plum Creeks Plan”

Speculators own 60,000 woodland acres

Where they want to build an entire city.

That’s almost 100 square miles impacted

To turn a profit for the shell corporation.

The opponents want development to follow

The county comprehensive plan.

Their website is taking donations and I think

This is another kind of collection.

It is not my struggle since I am transient here.

I relax in the evening and continue reading

Shelley’s historical fiction about past events

Knowing already how it all turned out.

I am walking the beach of this poem

Picking up the meanings of collecting

And collecting them like shells

Inside shells filled with thoughts.

Newnans Lake

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