Shell

A poem for my subscribers

Cautiously heartened we sing to ourselves. What will we do? What do we ever do!
We live.  We work.  We weep.  We reap. We have our coffee.  We vote.  We repair a watch.  We rediscover time. We are assaulted by love.  We are removed by hatred. Then we touch a rose that is in truth a shell with curves like the night with curves like the night with curves …