Published October 16, 2011 by Susan Woodward

Mussels, like toes dragged across wet sand,

Leave their trails below the surface,

Away from shore toward the safety of the deep,

Attempting to escape the fate of

Scattered skeletal remains of those feasted upon,

Left to collect in a child’s sand pail;

They leave behind ducks

Bickering over bits of bread,

Glad that they are not the prize instead.

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