Safe/ poem by Tana Miller

family vacation on a barrier island   warm sand   blue/grey/green sea

salt left behind in shimmering pools as the tide pulls free 

polka dot clouds decorate the late afternoon sky  

everywhere a stiff breeze carries fresh laundry   fishy seaweed scents   

ruffles hair   whips umbrellas    pulls fierce-faced kites higher than gulls fly

today   even paradise cannot still my soul’s yearning for home’s comfort

my youngest granddaughter   hair in wild tendrils   eyes flashing

runs toward me   unclasps her hands   reveals a sand crab

no larger than a dried white bean    stranded on its back   translucent pincers

waving wildly   I help her turn the tiny creature over   place it on the sand

on our knees   we watch it scurry a few inches   dive in an instant

deep into a miniscule hole   home safe

Tana Miller is a proud member of the Hudson Valley Women’s writing group, co-author of their anthology, An Apple in her Hand, most recently was published in In Her Voice. She’ll read a poem in an upcoming video from The New York City Society Library. “I read myself to sleep every night of my life.”

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