I left the house briefly today to walk to the beach.  I found this painting left by the tide.

and this bird.

and this shell.

Each of these felt to me like a little poem, a remnant of the day or last night, written in sand, stone, shell and feather.

The day with my autistic godson Jacob felt like a series of little poems too.  There were dance poems one and two, dog poem (helper Katrina brought her lovely little dog), swing poem, and many little climbing outside haiku.  Also many verses of touch – light as a feather touching, patting, stroking, and bouncing touch.  I know that I am feeling the traces of all of those, just as surely as the sand holds the tracings of the sea.