A glass fishing float used to keep nets from sinking. This one was found on a beach in Alaska.
Sometimes I like to pick up a book of poetry and just open to a page. Last night in one of my favorite anthologies, Poetry for the Earth, edited by Sara Dunn with Alan Scholefield, I found a poem called "Inner" by Liz Lochhead. I particularly liked this part of the poem:
"we have woken every morning/ for a week/ under the tin roof/ listening to the rain/ walking by the sea/ we find clean bones/ cork floats tiny/ coral branches/ green glass cockleshells/ driftwood a broken/ copper sprinkler rose gone green/ and botched and oxidised/ smooth pebbles mermaid purses/ things to pick. a collage on the windowledge./ I'd like/ an art that could somehow marry/ the washed-up manmade/ and the wholly natural/ make a change"
Strange how things sometimes appear. This reminds me of seaweed, but it's really cotton dyed with apple leaves and iron. And I see a star...