Shells
This Morning
Sea
shells
Doubled
like clams, oysters, mussels,
One
for each ear,
where
I provide
the
sound
of
the sea
climbing
in
and out
of spirals
circling
air
through chambers
that open
and meet
fog
and rain this morning
jane
in
does
she see the sun -
I’m
so glad she calls
so
we can share the fun
of
twirling
each
other’s weather
on
fingers
circled in gold
strung
to the heart
in grace we mold
in
the fog and gray light
nothing
to see but the tree
nestling,
snuggling, wanting to come in -
I
trim it periodically,
leaning
out, with my shears,
so
the leaves don’t bruise
and
crush on glass,
so
it doesn’t
die
like a bird
when
it mistakes,
this
flight,
for
the next -
how
does the fog do that
just
clear
first
nothing
then
the tree is near
and
then I see across
gliding
into trees
spread
up the hill,
leading
my eyes
like
a painting
to
a focus
diagonal
in intent,
something
to climb,
inside, out
and
outside, in -
mobius
strip
