A Hard Nut I Couldn’t Crack

There was an oyster shell once, one that was hard to crack

Every strike to open it with the chisel I used

created this vibration.

This vibe, it was small and low, but it carried

like the long waves coasting to shore from the outer break

in the calm days of summer.

And the crest of the wave

carried high enough that I was able to ride for a while

and then go out looking for another one.

There was something good inside that shell.

But my aim was poor, and I was playing around.

With misjudged strength, I cracked the shell itself,

And cut open my own hand.

Forever now it seems

that the good thing inside the shell

is sealed away. 



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