The Ammonite

It is a heavy thing; its surface, flat
and polished smooth, gleams with a glassy sheen.
An ornament, giving few signals that
this rock is not what it has always been.

Only the fragile walls encasing stone,
the perfect spiral structure, subtly show
the outline that was once a creature’s home.
This object was alive, aeons ago.

It’s beautiful, although the crystal grains
trapped in its many chambers give no clue
that what was here before had flesh, had brains.
Time has transformed it into something new.
A journey started in some ancient sea,
long dry, has come to rest – for now – with me.