Agates Between Us and the Sun

Agates Between Us and the Sun
{07.20.09}

as the wind
changed direction with the tide
and swept through our hair
or wool sweaters
bringing with it
the tough, salty aroma
of kelp and empty crab shells
we would scan the beach
like human metal detectors
only for treasure of a different kind:
agates.
years later,
at a random moment
someone will type ‘aggregate’
in an email, something
none of us currently even
conjures through fantasy,
and I will think of agates,
partly because the two words
rooted together on
my psycho-linguistic palate as a kid
and didn’t separate into branches
for a couple years.
when I think of agates
we are all walking on the beach
in our determined search
because we know that
Deva loves them, her face alights
at their discovery and arrival:
every time.
as a child, and even
years later as an adult,
I would always have her
examine them
verifying their value like
a rare diamond merchant.
she would hold them
between us and the sun
to force them to testify
to their translucence
and then she would have her lens
through the heavens and cosmos
a peak into the magic beyond.