(Tidepool watching, Pt. Lobos
State Natural Reserve, Carmel, California)

(for Sue Lester, DVM)

•••

Hermit crabs of various sizes
meander the little crabby highway
of a low-tide pool as I sit and watch

the show on a spring-like afternoon.
I cannot peer in tide pools without
thinking of you, my childhood BFF,

who bequeathed your love of marine
life and taught me the names of
sea creatures and wildflowers

and so much more. So I carry you
with me as I eavesdrop on the shallow
dip of wave-sculpted sandstone

under a few inches of saltwater.
And this dude wearing a light-colored
shell scoots down-pool as a bigger dude

sporting some black-and-silver muscle
heads for the littler guy, and, with one
whopper of a crab leg, upends him,

landing him bottom up, his little legs
waving helplessly as the bully moves on.
All my defenses rise in outrage.

How dare this ruffian shove that littler
guy around? He seemed to be minding
his own business. And, though you

might point out that this is nature
taking its course, before that occurs
to me, my hand reaches into the water

to right the little guy, who, once he
has his little crabby legs under him,
wisely heads in the opposite direction.

How many times as a kid did I witness
such meanness? How often did I stand
up for one being bullied or jeered at?

And how now might I lend a hand
to right someone upended, offer
a sympathetic touch or a kind word?

As you do every day in your work
with animals and their people,
helping them rise again, if possible,

and, if not, lending your gentle voice
and hands to say, sometimes without words,
Good boy. Good girl. I’m sorry. I care.

•••