Soft Shelled

Wading on the sandbar
you turn to look at me,
and I am brimming with love for you,
your funny hat,
your sunburned smile,
your childlike clumsiness.

We have come here hunting crabs,
a primal weekend outing.
We don’t cheat with traps,
instead stalk each individually,
a loud splash,
a triumphant yelp,
for every pair of
brilliant blue claws.

“They too, fall in love you know.
Cradling the female under his body,
the male takes her safely in to the grass.
She sheds her protective shell
one last time,
lays on her back, opening her
triangular underbelly,
a secret entrance.
He carries her again until
she hardens and swims away
to saltier waters.”

You said, “They are just ‘animals’.”
I said, “So are we.”