Hand and hand, we stroll down the shores of grey,
With only a flashlight to lead the way.
The stars shimmer across the shells littering the dark sand,
The waves erasing our path step by step, wave by wave.
We don’t say a word,
Our eyes locked on the surf,
He points and I nod.
In unison we kneel,
Watching the wave pull back to reveal,
tiny shells digging deeper,
Vanishing in piles of black and grey.
And as the winds grow cooler,
Icy undertow licking at our heels,
We climb back up to the sandy shore,
To save crabbing for next summer.
Invisible Friends, have you ever gone crabbing?