A friend brought me a gift from the sea.
It might be the shell of a channeled whelk,
it’s hard to tell.

You might expect a seashell
offered to you as a gift
to be perfect.

This shell is broken and burnished.
Its graceful internal curve intact
with a few remnants of other shells
and a small stone lodged within its spiral.

How long did it serve as a home
for living creatures? And once abandoned,
how long did it tumble
in the salty sea and sand?

This shell is weathered and worn,
burnished and beautiful
as are we two old friends, and all of us
who live on
in our slowly evolving forms.