By Lisa Baker

seafoam swirls about nikki’s silver-polished toes
you can smell the lemon in her hair
nikki mines amid the seaweeds: little shells and golden stones.

she doesn’t seek the treasure lots of turquoise, copper, gold
flint, or diamonds, pearls, reds from iron ores; unawares
seafoam swirls about nikki’s silver-polished toes.

far from royal portraits flooded in jewels and velvet folds
far from laddened galleons, white sails of billowing aires
nikki mines amid the seaweeds: little shells and golden stones.

she doesn’t hold a sword or axe, a rifle or a hoe
no tip of the prospector’s pan, still she’s crowned heir.
seafoam swirls about nikki’s silver-polished toes

while she plucks sea snails, mussel shards, agates where the end-tide flows.
the water bubbles, breaks and, soaking into the sand, disappears
nikki mines amid the seaweeds: little shells and golden stones.

she tucks the rounded stones in her pockets, threadworn, torn
walks into the salty sea, sandy, nearly bare
seafoam swirls about nikki’s silver-polished toes
nikki mines amid the seaweeds: little shells and golden stones.

Lisa Baker is an emerging poet. Much of her life has been devoted to traveling for educational, humanitarian and environmental purposes. Her most recent trip was to Iceland, where she helped implement various reforestation projects. Lisa has three grown children and lives in San Francisco.