There once was an Oyster whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand was inside his shell
Just one little grain, but it gave him great pain!
For oysters have feelings, though they all seem so plain.

Now did he berate the workings of fate.
Which had led him to such a deplorable state?
Did he curse out the government—call for an election,
And cry that the sea “should have given protection?”

No! He said to himself as he lay on the shelf,
“Since I cannot remove it, I’ll try to improve it.”
The years rolled along, as the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate destiny—stew!

And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so,
Was a beautiful pearl, all richly aglow!
The tale has a moral, for isn’t it grand.
What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?

What couldn’t I do if I’d only begin,
With all those things that “get under my skin!”
~Author Unknown~

The storm is raging up above,
And waves are dashing high,
The sea birds, screaming, fly to land,
As thunder rocks the sky.

But down below in waters calm
The oyster sleeps away;
Quite heedless of the wind and waves,
He snoozes, night and day.

He does not shout and rant and rave,
Nor bolts of lightning hurl,
He's dozing in the oyster bed,
And dreaming up a pearl!
~Frances Gorman Risser~


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May 2, 2014