Sad seaweed

I have blogged here before about the fact that the beach is slightly different every day, and never gets boring. Today, it was what I call a "seaweedy" day...there were clumps of it as far as the eye could see.



As I looked more closely at the bundles, I noticed that there were many coquina clams attached to it.



And then I noticed the sad thing: the coquinas were dying, reaching out into the air, looking for water, for sustenance.



I had seen this once before, when the large log/tree trunk/whatever it is washed up on the beach several years ago. Then, as now, I wished there was something I could do, and considered picking up the clumps of seaweed and throwing them back into the ocean. I knew how very little I could help, though, and the feeling of powerlessness was difficult. It reminded me of what has been referred to as "the starfish story", which I was able to find in poem form online:

One summer day I went out walking along a strand of beach
Where hundreds of starfish were stranded beyond tide's reach
As I strolled along the sands a kindly lady passed by me
Throwing stranded, struggling starfish back into the briny sea.

I asked "Why do you do this when you can only save
Those few lucky starfish you throw back into the waves,
Why do you even bother, since most of them will die?
Does it really matter that much?" I asked and she replied:

"I cannot save all the starfish, many of them die, I know,
With so many more miles of sandy seashore still to go,
But for every single starfish saved from the killing sun,

I think it matters, yes it matters. It matters to this one.