At first breath
You’d say it’s just a lump of clay
Or wedge of ridgy rock
Still dirty from the ground;
But turn it half around
And you’ll begin to understand
Why I display it.
Perhaps a dozen fluted grooves
Decorate its face
As on a marble column.
Looking closer you can see
The indentations
Of some segment rows
And one banded arm.
This was once a living animal,
A crinoid, anchored
On the bottom sand
Of some warm inland sea,
Swaying its pinnules gently
In the currents washing past,
Charming smaller animals.
Now for me it operates
As a memento mori,
A reproval to this
Human-centered place,
A comment on the
Beauty that surrounds us
And on its death.
©2004 John I. Blair
