Smooth Edges

smooth edges

i’ve always found beach glass
to be more interesting than seashells.  

driftwood and gull feathers
are also lovely things,
but the whole idea of glass
made from molten sand,
colored with burning metal,
and then pressed into
organic shapes
to hold pabst blue ribbon,
coca cola,
little kings,
and swiss crème soda
intrigued me.  

even as a child,
i couldn’t understand
the lack of care
that led to such
complex
and miraculous things
being randomly thrown
from boats and cars,
or intentionally
crashed
upon the rocks.  

i did, however,
love the more subtle
transformation
by wind and waves,
from sharp,
dangerous shards,
sprung from anger
or indifference,
into soft,
sand like pebbles
that were somehow
always brighter
and clearer when wet,
as if in honor
of the liquids
they once contained.  

as children,
we guarded
and cherished
such mysterious treasures,
sharing them only with special friends.  

as adults, however,
we find that we somehow lost
that old tin box,
full of glass bobbles,
somewhere over the years.  

it’s worth mentioning that,
like so many other things,
that we eventually learn
to let go of,
we no longer care so much
about their whereabouts,

although our nobler selves
want to think that they made it back
to the beach,
somehow,
in order to become sand,
once again.  

we also,
just like glass,
it would seem,
are slowly,
randomly,
shaped by the sands
of time,
and no longer show
the sharp edges
of loss.  

in our brighter,
clearer moments,
we find joy,
again,

in simple recollection,
or, better yet,

in actually re-collecting
those small bright things,

that continue to catch the watchful eye.

---

Jeffrey Bowen

Appeared in the Fall 2020 Edition of The Halcyone Literary Review from The Black Mountain Press.