The photo is of Nat, my second son, trying his hand at surfing at Manhattan beach last summer. And the poem is from an experience I had at the Atlantic a few summers back now on an early morning. Nat -- do you remember your moment's pearl?

Sandman and the Crab

The tiny crab's eyes folded down and then popped up again Like the nursery rhymed weasel. Before us the waves had formed a new mound of sand With a design on its back to imitate the crab's. And the waves still rolled, of course, Clapping every now and then to keep me awake to the dawn. They created a small inlet at the side of their mound And crept back behind it . . . to rest? Or, when boldness and the tide gave the impulse, They would push their dirty white foam right over the mound to slip down the other side. And as the wave left again, returning to where it came from, The mound's back glowed with the water's pearl For a second, or longer if your eyes were popped, And your mind awake with the last clap. Then the mound would swallow and sift the pearl into itself Out to the wave's edge And back to the pond's edge on the opposite side of the wave's mound. The crab and I both saw it, I think, and sensed our part, For, as I rose to return to the day, The crab scuttled sideways into this sand cave To search out the moment's pearl, a dry glory, And the bold impulse to Awaken.