At Midday, Sea Abandoned Shore

leaving behind the wrack line’s dry squiggle, 

as waves clacked over a bed of polished stones

in a nervous chatter. 

Crowded by the cold weight of kelp

are hundreds of thousands of heavenly-grey barnacles,

whose tiny tidal mouths gasped

one last time, before sealing themselves

into a private darkness. I tried to translate 

the debris, but it smelled like home—

sour, fermenting hay after a prairie thunderstorm, 

1447 miles from this spot. I had to move along.

Instead, I focused on memorizing a pudgy harbour seal 

who was dappled like periwinkle clouds

gathering over both of us in Birds Eye Cove. 

His whiskers winked, one 

last time above the glassy waterline:

a final goodbye. 

I took extra care to gather sand 

in the cuffs of my jeans and the seams of my jacket, 

for there would be a long drive ahead.