Breakers

They crash and foam, sounding angry.
So big and mighty they transform
The aged rocks, slowly, wondrously.
Dragging in and leaving treasurers
On the beach, in the pools, and we look.
Searching for the creatures we don't see.
Looking for the dead beauty in a shell.
Or the wonder of the glass or rock
Made smooth from the pounding.
It is the symphony of the tides run.
Possessing what the eye can only
Imagine and what the heart yearns for.