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Seashells




he brings them home

from the school

playground

a coastal town

we are


and the school is not

seaside

but these shells

managed their way

to his recess yard

only six years old

and he espies

these tiny slivers of

sea

during play


patterned and scalloped

in exquisite fashion

muted colours that only the sea

can harvest


gray

beige

charcoal

crème

eggshell


they clitter and clatter

tinkling sounds

when gathered


and, they have brought me

a poem


the sea knows

poetry



Annie Kiyonaga


2002


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