The Gift
After the wind-bruised
sea
furrowed itself back
into the folds of blue, I found
in the black
wrack
a shell called the Neptune
-
tawny and white,
spherical,
with a tail
and a tower
and a dark
door,
and all of it
no larger
than my fist.
It looked,
you might say,
very expensive.
I thought of its travels
in the
Atlantic's
wind-pounded bowl
and wondered
that it was still
intact.
Ah yes, there was
that
door
that held only the eventual, inevitable
emptiness.
There's that - there's
always that.
Still, what a house
to leave behind!
I held
it
like the wisest of
books
and imagined
its travels toward my hand.
And now, your
hand.
~ Mary Oliver
~
(The Truro Bear and Other
Adventures)
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