Janice D. Soderling

Walking Along the Shoreline in Late Autumn

The shapes of seashells and the shapes of leaves.
Observe the divers versions of these primal patterns.

Note where erratic slapping of the waves
has chipped and pared these emptied halves.
Note too how foliage curls to brittle brown.
Gone the greenery.  Gone the brilliant colors.

Ponder this glossy shell, once tightly hinged
to a similar self, encasing and defending
a helpless core.

See how the hollow veins arrange along this blade.
See how this stem has ruptured from its source
and from its strength.

In layered silt, eons of shells lie buried.
The soil we tread is formed of last year’s leaves.
Fog closes like an eyelid on the water.
The only sound the tramping of our feet.
Now let us speak of love.