Sand crystals

I drove down A1A one time and watched the sun rise
Along Cape Canaveral's beaches
And it was a bright, silver morning
The seagulls screaming to the waves
The blue-green water rising up
And slamming down upon the sands
Which were shark's skin grey in the morning light.

And each beach is unique:
The distinctive repositories of billions
Of sugar glass crystals, each different,
Though seemingly the same,
Their individuality lost among the myriad others,
A snow globe sitting upon the shelf, a scene caught
In its own wet sphere,
Shaking the crystals with my hand against the shafts of sunlight.