Washing the
sea shells and
rocks I have
saved, some
of them for
forty years.
I lay them
out on dish
cloths to dry.
They need a
new container,
that seems to
be the theme
right now.
Water damage
in the house.
I weigh oak
vs. maple,
when really
I want beech.
When really
I think
the whole life
is wrong.
How far back
do I have to
unravel it.

The sea shells
have rested
in a Mexican
basket my first
husband brought
back from a trip
after we were
I forget exactly
since when.
I scrub it with
soap and a sponge
trying to remove
the stain,
though I intend
to give it away.(throw)
Studying the start
at the bottom,
of the perfectly
coiled basket,
it’s hard to let
it go.
I have such
reverence for
(and the women
who made them.)
I’ve made baskets,
though never as
lovely as this.
Like all hand made
things if you make
a mistake you have
to undo your work
back to where
the mistake
was made.
Like all hand made
things, knitting,
sewing –
it’s all the same.
Same with a life
I think.
That seems to be
the theme
right now,