When I get up from the sandy floor,
I scuttle in search of something more.
Covered in muck, I squint my eyes,
Seeking a head for what may lie.

A screech I hear from left, no right!
For I can’t see through this ugly gunk sight.
The more I move, the more I find,
The more I realize I must be blind.

Suddenly, I feel a brush against by claw,
I stare in wonder and in awe.
What could it be so rough and knotted,
Oh! There is an oyster in there clotted!

I try to pinch and break the oyster free,
For that sure would bring joy to me.
I pull him out and bid him goodbye,
Oh how this bay is in such awry.

A shadow darkens the sand below me,
I look up and listen to the catfish plea.
I notice the tumors placed on their lips,
As the water overcomes them like whips.

The bay is choked with mud and floating debris,
So please someone come set us free.
 

--  By Abigail Hoestra
Age 12, Grade 7,
Patuxent Trib