an infinitesimal spark of girl,
miniature human,
all in pink,
with a tiny necklace
made of shells.
She spins along the tide line
past her mother and brother and dog
and reaches for the perfect white feather
I am carrying home
for my collection.
I hand it over to her
without hesitation.
She touches it to the top
of my small dog’s head
as if we were waiting for just this thing-
some small fairy of a girl to come along
and change the feather into wand,
a magic wand to anoint us with
on this twilight beach.
Off she twirls
feather wand aloft
back to the tide line wrack
and sigh of curling tide,
the sky over us all amethyst and pearl.
Who knows how else blessings come?
© 2013, Janice Riley. All rights reserved.


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