Rock Pool Ramble

The children are the scholars — periwinkles
and limpets lifted, named, set back on basalt,
warreners closed like trap doors on upturned
sea-snails: we score sand mazed with their journeys
and moon snails' finer tracks. The watery click
of soldier crabs echoes beneath our feet —
an army of knitters in tide-swept catacombs.
On all sides, a surrealistic feast
for the eyes, if not the gut: cat shark eggs
and eggs of the sea-snail in aspic sausage;
ghost-shrimps on a bed of sea-lettuce.
Sea-apples might tempt, but for their nickname:
"dead man's hand'. On a lacquered table,
holdfast plates drip with bubbleweed garnish.