It’s just an old quart Mason Jar
two-thirds filled with sand

sitting in the corner, small shelf
just above my desk

as nondescript as artifacts go
prominent display

typical jar, ordinary sand, hand
scooped by me –

my hand, from shallow bottom
Horseshoe Lake

grandparents home, my summer
oasis – though

over twenty years had passed
current owner

allowed beach access, I had a bag
and an impulse

My stop spontaneous, my actions
deliberate

In glancing at that jar so much comes
back to me

lapping waves on the beach, walking
barefoot on same

summer days have lasted a lifetime
amazing what sand

thousands of granular bits of rock
most common

element on earth, most uncommon
touchstones

Mine alone.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
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