The Solitary Seashell by Kevin Cowdall


Poetry by Kevin Cowdall



Strolling along the shore

I find a lone scallop shell

left there, high and dry,

by the earlier tidal swell,

and my reverie is broken

for a time while I dwell.

I stand in contemplative solitude

holding it in the palm of my hand,

white and pink and cream,

and brush away the clinging sand;

examining its polished smoothness,

tracing each perfect ridge and band,

wondering how many countless tides

it has taken to bring it here today.

I marvel at such simple perfection

and return it to where it lay.

I linger for a moment longer,

then continue on my way.




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