Why do you cling to a concrete seawall like you have found your place forever?
Why can't you be wandering or be one with sea instead?
The sun is yet beginning to grow; and small splashes of low tides intermittently kiss you on a lower dyke.
I can see you in your shell squirting water after every splash of sea waves you are stroked with. You are truly alive.
What if the sea is even nowhere in sight? Can you survive the scorching heat of the sun?
You seem to be dead when dry and resurrected when hit by the waves.
Are you there forever, oysters? You're not, you little stubborn creatures!
Your flesh will soon be rooted up and eaten. Is that what you are called for?
Oysters cannot hear me, for the great waters have come.
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| Oyster on rock. Photo by fjacinto |
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