Back when I was a boy
of six or eight or ten
all summer long
from mid-June to September
I ran barefoot on the beaches at Katama
Menemsha, Chappaquiddik
Tashmoo and our Lagoon Pond
during those childhood years
of all the sea life caught
and held between my fingers
puffer fish and eels
sand sharks and scallops
it was the hermit crabs
I found most fascinating
the way they seemed to glide
across the sandy bottom
pulling back into their shells
when I would pick them up
then snapping with their tiny claws
in self defense
while softer body parts
stayed safely curled
deep in the shell
until the need for a more spacious home
compelled the little crab
to risk a quick dash in the open
just the time required
to occupy a new and bigger shell
as I look back
across the epochs of my life
I see the hermit crab I've been
holed for years until something compelled me
then coming out of my safe shell
just long enough
to squeeze into the next