Journey of A Yoke
The six-pack yoke waited in California
Strong, but light, peaking above the sand.
The infinitely small pebbles tried to swallow
It whole, but it could not be buried.
The Pacific swam up the shore
Sliding closer, no longer crashing.
Unaware of what the high tide would pull into the sea,
Unknowing of how the chained plastic would
Wade among the seaweed encamped otters.
It ruled the waters, absorbing the ocean current.
It even had a few aluminum
And glass companions
Floating on the cresting waves.
It, the cans,
The bottles and bags
Drifted up and down the coast
Meeting along the way
Gray whales and golden trout
The ones who truly belonged in California.