Work-shopping - No. 2

This is the poem how it exists now. I have submitted it for work-shopping...we'll see where it goes. I also completed and submitted my first critique which was a challenge but also fun. I felt like I was in college again (in all the good ways). Hopefully the writer will appreciate my comments!

Destined for Greatness


They say you can dig to China,
so we start right away-
itching for the thrill of escape.

Towels flutter down like parachutes,
an umbrella blooms, but we don’t notice,
already clawing at the sand.

We scuff away the soft stuff first,
a sandy spray sent up from cupped hands,
fingertips hunting for cool silt.

Elbows extended, we dig in a fit-
the curve of shoulder, the snap of neck-
until we hit the damp layer below.

A scrape of plastic shovel,
the heft of wet sand, bowing handle-
then finally, the bottomless crevice.

How deep the hole
and how scary it seems
that a small child could crawl inside it and disappear.

As we cling to the edge with bare toes
the sand gives way-
scattering us like deer flies before we fall in.

How deep the hole, and yet how full.
Woven with thin rays of clay and filaments of wood.
Fragments of silica buried deep.

A scoop of ground, a hollow shaft-
from its origin we return, sand-caked and salt-covered,
eroded and tunnel-weak.

Craving waves of cool water,
we lazily kick at the earth-
filling in the hole so no one gets hurt.