Sea Leaves

I walk beside the ocean, then turn and continue
walking just beside the first berm, a few yards from
the water which is at half tide. Eventually I find
what I’m looking for, a plant green and with the
flavor of raw salt, and leaves shaped like arrow-
heads. But before that, down the long shore, I have
seen many things: shells, waves, once a pair of
whimbrels, gulls and terns over the water, rabbits
long-legging it through the thickets above the
berm. I kneel and pick among the green leaves, not
taking all of any plant but a few leaves from each,
until my knapsack is filled. Keep your spinach; I’ll
have this. Then I stroll home. I’ll cook the leaves
briefly; M. and I will eat some and put the rest into
the freezer, for winter. The only thing I don’t know
is, should the activity of this day be called labor, or
pleasure?