No salt upon my quiet skin, no tides that pull the shores within. I hold the sky in still embrace, while hills and forests frame my face.

I color the sky but never touch it, I appear after storms and disappear with the sun.

Beaches have me, and my solid form travels with packages. I emerge when dirty dishes are done. What am I?

People love to walk on me, but hate it when I'm in their shoes. Shiny, tiny jewels 'neath the sea, but I cannot pay your dues.

Where the ocean meets the land, Whether rocky or of sand, Looking to find some shells to score, Find them here they litter the...