'The Shell Is Hard, But The Pink Meat Is Juicy, Oysters' Poem by James McLain

The waves rise high, then whisper low,
A silver hush where sea winds blow.
Upon the shore, in twilight's grace,
Lie pearls in armor, rough in place.

The shell is hard, a stubborn guard,
It bears the storm, the seasons marred.
Yet deep within, the soft heart beats,
A gift of brine, where salt and sweet—

Like lovers' lips, in secret press,
A hidden world in tenderness.
The knife may twist, the hand may pry,
Yet still within, the dewdrops lie.

O taste the sea, its fleeting bliss,
Upon the tongue, a salted kiss.
For all things bright and all things cold,
Hold tender warmth within their hold.

And love, like this, in silence stays,
A fleeting pearl in moonlit bays.