Found

after listening to Helping Hand by Yo-Yo Ma 
 
I walk along wind sculpted hills 
of white quartz sand to satisfy my curiosity. 
Sandpipers play chicken with receding waves, 
while they skim, slurp, probe the mud. 
Jellyfish, stranded by the tide, glisten and wink. 
 
A tank-like structure somersaults on the waves, 
resonates against the rocks. 
I stoop down to take a closer look: 
brownish-green, domed-shaped helmet, 
hinged carapace, spiky tail. 
 
Not a living creature, but the molt 
of a horseshoe crab. There on the beach 
I leave a former version of myself 
and journey on, renewed.

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