What the Conch in the Reef Feels

I rode on a hermit's back,
was left for another.
Now free of his scratchy skin
and love for travel, I sit
content in the sand.
It moves over and under me, smooths

my surface. Soon I'm hugged
by an algae sweater, followed by
a barnacle brooch. Fish lips
tickle my shoulder as they snack.
I smile inside,
happy to supply their buffet.

A current provides a dizzying ride
as I bob and roll and finally
rest in a coral bed.
Starfish glide over me, kiss
with hundreds of tiny tube feet.
I dance with urchin and anemone

in my sea forrest, brushed by
tentacles and leaves. As I ride off
on my new hermit's back,
my insides scratched, I await the day
he grows too large, and hope
it's in the reef.

The Artist

Some wish life was like
a new box of crayons.
I don't mind
my favorite shades
are worn.

I've colored my life
with praying hands
folded for my father,
knowledge that an army
surrounds me.

Some see
broken crayons.
I see light through darkness,
a rainbow, the first
tulip of spring.