Hermit Crabs in Florida
Hermit crabs, you’re not very social,
mingling on the hot summer sand,
like the dryness in my throat,
Choking, inability to speak,
They cling to reality,
the way you cling to your shell,
Desperate, they see what suits them,
Triggered like a cannon,
Weeping like a Willow,
Hungry for plastic straws,
that coat your subliminal oceans.
Polluted on the inside,
smiling on the outside,
And reaching for Divinity with every failed success.
They’re like you, Hermit Crabs,
Mingling alone among the billions,
Needing no more purpose than a potted plant,
And though some are still awakening,
the others they have sought,
only a few take seed in sandy soil,
and the roots they will not rot!
in a deeply hidden garden,
just beyond the seagrass.
I’m like all of them,
my dear friends the Hermit Crabs,
Waving a hooked claw of memories,
And tiny-legged freedom,
I stumble along the beach of life,
looking for my Hermit’s shell,
Spiral downward, ever upward lifting high,
A treasure trove of colorful ideas,
and though it might be madness,
I laugh, not cry.
Whisked away like sweeping seagull laughter.