On Reading Amy Clampitt’s ‘Beach Glass’

I’ve walked that watery edge, Amy,
teetered on the ledge of understanding,
envisioned a Utopian paradise, but slipped
before I found it.

The endless piles of plastic,
residue of careless tourists
pushing and shoving at my mind
like waves on sand.

I’ll leave the glass to you, Amy,
shards and fragments of a sharper hue,
even the translucent turquoise, (Not all
tourists are infidels.)

I’ll take the grasses, the plumey
heads of swampy grasses nodding
their hello, downy cattails
bending in the wind.

My weedy, reedy friends
that teeter, always understanding
the uncertainty of me,
of where I’m going…

where I’ve been.

2 thoughts on “On Reading Amy Clampitt’s ‘Beach Glass’

  1. bongler

    At the risk of being simplistic; one word, Wow!

    Seems our species is doomed to ever slip before reaching Utopia. At my age, I’ll settle for the beauty of the written word; and there is beauty aplenty here.


    Still around, though it was a close run thing last October.

    1. Douglas!!

      Hello…wow it is so good to ‘hear’ your voice. How is Charlie? all grown up, I’m guessing.
      Don’t be a stranger!

      Thanks for being here and for your kind words…


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