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 . . .”

Glass half-Full

Author and Publisher of 4 novels and 900 blogs, 40-year husband and father, Christian, radical centrist