I have gathered shells
since a little girl.
its a habit,
a ritual I observe
without thinking of it.
a way to bring a little piece
of the sea
(I have even smuggled
them home through customs from overseas.
it seemed worth the risk;
that's how instinctive it is
for me to collect shells...)
I found this treasured set
belonging to someone who took their collecting seriously.
a stocking box filled with matchboxes,
each compartment labeled
place & year.
- like Mornington, Middle Park,
Port Fairy (Victoria), Waratah (NSW) and Victor Harbour (SA)
between the years 1952 to 1954 -
dots on a map joined together by a beachcombing bowerbird.
a beautiful story imagined;
perhaps even enough to compose the script to a movie?
I like that idea.