Strolling along the strands of time
we find pieces in the sand,
remnants of creatures’
life gone by.
Let us collect a few pieces . . .
Oh, what have we here?
Let’s take look.
We plop down in the sand
and begin arranging shells.
. . .don’t know why, I just . . .
have some notion of Cambrian past
or the Genesis moment
Spirit of God hovering over
the surface of the waters
eons ago.
There’s a pattern somewhere
in these random shards
of sea creatures’ cranked-up
now cracked-up
abandoned huts,
and here’s a man, wanting to find a story
a history, a timeline,
reason or rhyme
some explanation
written into the remains.
some meaning
in the random remnants?
A closer look reveals
two types.
Now arrange a bunch in
pattern, improvised
maybe random
maybe not
just to make some
comparison
maybe discern some
development pattern
or even divine imprint
now arrange them on sand
to make some unique surfus opus,
a work of beachified shard art!
Hey notice
most of these little clammies
had cast out concentric rings
in their gradual growth . . .
rings that span wider and wider
as the creature’s expanding abode grew
broader, elliptical . . . in a widening gyre
further and further flat out
from the brain
or whatever that organizing organ
is in a mollusk mind.
Others fling up calcified arcs
like dead rainbows.
See the roundy one at the bottom.
But then,
alas, and pshaw!
as Moody Blues sang
many moody moons ago . . .
“ the tide rushes in
and washes my castles away
and I’m really not so sure
which side of the . . .”
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