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  • Gary Hunter

Shoreline Poet - Oct. 15, 2022

I gather shells and stones

scrounge for bleached bones

driftwood seaweed

anything oddly beached

I guess I’m a shoreline poet

the washed up or ignored

I pick up and put on paper

imagine them in motion

the music their mouths made

their untold stories

the depths of humanity

diving deep into lives

I leave to other poets

though I see the

moon as an orphan

in the sea of the sky

and I’ll swim up to her

on those lonely nights


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