Oh! Glorious, that tiny speck of sand
as a boulder found within my shoe
picked up along the sidewalk unplanned
brought my wandering thoughts back anew
For as I strode that silver slip of path
my thoughts had drifted toward a darker bent—
fretful, fearful images, destruction, unspent wrath—
anguish and despair were freely given vent.
The sting upon my heel felt most keen,
I paused and leaned upon a light post there
and emptying that bit of ancient shell, a scene
fell within my gaze, I stopped to stare.
The image of those devious waves that rumble
and travel whelk and cockles ‘cross the shores,
what have I about to grumble
when that bright shard connects my heel with yours?
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Frank has us writing Odes at dVerse tonight. Join us!
Jilly's 
it is amazing how something so small can bring us back to our senses. It is worthy of praise. I especially liked the last stanza but the whole poem built up to it.
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Thank you, Frank! I wanted to zero in on something very small that was worthy of praise.
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Funny how when I read the title my Southern mind read it as grits…it is amazing how the smallest things can cause us distress. Wonderful rhymes in this!
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Haha! Perhaps write an ode to grits?
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I love the ambiguity of the connecting heels — you, too far from water… or you, brought together with someone on another beach. I realize this is poetic voice so the answer lies with you, the writer and me, the reader. And the answer(s) can be widely disparate. That’s the joy of poetry!
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Nice analysis, Charley. I’ll leave it to the reader and not clarify further. The poet’s prerogative 🙂
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You’ve always let the reader make their own interpretation. I love this and each time iI read it, there’s new meaning.
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Good! Thanks, Vivian!
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😊
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Love how the smallest things can make us stop and take notice and realize that there’s so much that’s bigger than we are. Excellent word choice throughout. Love the rhymes.
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Thanks, Lynn!
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kaykuala
anguish and despair were freely given vent.
The sting upon my heel felt most keen,
The seashore can be so unfriendly! One can never tell what lies in wait!
Hank
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Thanks for reading & it’s nice to see you, Hank!
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I wonder whose heel trod those cockle shells?
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Perhaps yours!
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I really love this, how that single shard of shell connected you… also the double meaning of grit worked well with me.
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Yeah! Thanks
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this is like the grit that makes the pearl – ingenious!
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Great insight!
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I love that you went out on tangents of imaginings- like Keats imagined the people on the urn. I also like that we chose nearly the same topic, go figure. I saw your title but I thought grit would mean the figurative type so that was a funny surprise!
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Thank you! I noticed the connection, too. I took it a step beyond; I wrote during lunch today and gravel had a cameo appearance. However, that poem takes a backseat. Tonight my internal editor showed up. Tiles are coming up this evening…
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Hooray! I will haunt the Blenza.
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Done!
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I admire how you captured that scene- that moment of reflection, that connection with nature ~ Also enjoyed reading this loud ~
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Thanks, Grace!
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What a wonderful, weaving cadence you write, Jilly. Great poem!
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Thank you, thank you!
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