The wide, whorled moon shell
n’est pas bleu
its chalk-white shell shattered
so only the round face gazes
at me from the rough-washed sand
here, four thousand days away
on this full moon, blue moon way.
Here, where, in our future perfect
we will have sat by the quay, again,
eaten mussels in that broth with wine
sun on our weary faces,
facing Le Vieux-Bassin
your smiling moon face
what I will have remembered most,
a rare find among the ebb and flow
of this dream whorled world.
IMAGE: Moon shell, Naticidae. POEM ©2018, Jen Payne. National Poetry Month 2018, #2. If you like this poem, then…
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EVIDENCE OF FLOSSING: WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND – Inspired by Thoreau, Muir, and Oliver, naturalist Jen Payne presents a curious collection of poems and photographs that explore our divine connection with nature. (180 pages, 5.5 x 8.5, Color Photos, $21.99 plus tax + shipping)