Chipped green,
turquoise, amber
tumbled smooth—
those bits we found
like careless kindnesses
flung, refusing requiem
of swell and surf—
And I cannot part
with strips of drift-
wood tucked into shelves
and drawers, cannot quite
give up the habit
of probing whorled
things for what they hide
of salt or seed—
In response to Via Negativa: Interiority complex and small stone (206).