After the Fact

We have an old, cracked iPod Nano
That somehow ended up in the van console.
I stuffed it in the baby carrier,
Figuring someone might like to listen to it
As we travel, and then promptly forgot about it,
Only reminded at odd moments when my fingers,
Looking for wallet, diaper, or phone,
Brush against it. Ah, yes, that further fellow traveler.

So I could do nothing but offer thanks when,
Walking home across the sand, I glanced down
And saw the iPod, that silver square inch,
Resting among the kelp, waiting for me to reclaim it.
I must have pulled out my phone and dropped it, unaware.

That no one else spotted it;
That I glanced down at that moment;
That I walked back the same way;
That I found it before I knew it was missing;
For these provisions and more, O God, I give you thanks.