Shells

This thing of all things I've been trying to remember:
How the long gentle ellipse of sand came to the turquoise embrace of salt water
How the hawk in the thermal made grace of the black coral cliffs
which were eroded to razor-edged hollows and holes by rain
How the angelfish moved like vertical ribbons of seaweed
and the cowries were brown velvet studded with precious stones
How no-one then could have foreseen the strange flowers
that would grow from my flesh in a land of cold rain and moss
How I could have overlooked Him lying in the warm shade laughing
at my childish fingers clutching broken shells that now I polish
lovingly and turn, hold to the light, only to see the reflection
of palm fronds etched against sky far behind my shoulder and
Him watching.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside