Shells of Huron

My tiny fingers picked shells on the beach of Huron
And I pressed the ocean to my ear
I heard it and felt it wash into my soul
Feeling a bit salty and a tad thirsty
For the ocean again in my tiny hands
But four feet isn’t high forever
And the sun has set on those moments of love
So now I listen to the wind whisper poems
Because this state knows all about wind
And sometimes, the wind is a breeze carrying the words whispered by poets
To my ears, and to my soul that isn’t as salty anymore.

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