This morning, my fourth glass float—scummy with dying sea life. Gary lost count of his finds long ago.

There is oil on the beach—more and more each morning.

Sometimes we discover odd trash—we couldn’t leave this behind.

This blue sponge had been in water so long, gooseneck grew on one side.

Polystyrene foam never breaks down, only breaks apart.

But almost every day, we walk in the quiet morning, the sun comes and goes away, we are soaked by rain, and we see eagles and other wonders.

A pair of black oystercatchers.

4 thoughts on “HOLD ON

    • Thank you, Mary Jo. (That’s exactly what Gary said when I found it.)

      It is becoming almost unbearable not to collect plastic trash as we did before the pandemic. Once I am fully vaccinated, I mean to do it again. We still bring home things that look dangerous—our second chemical container this morning and a light bulb.

      As to the oil, I have considered ruptured oil tanks onshore, but I really believe it is coming from boats emptying their bilge at sea or other dumping at sea—illegal, but it happens. It’s really bad a mile north.


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