A Spiral in Stone

Slipping back inside from the patio as the night deepened, I climbed onto the cedar shelf where several curiosities rested in quiet repose. Among them stood a palm-sized ammonite fossil, cradled upright on a two-pronged brass easel. Stepping close, I rested my fingertips against the chilled, petrified stone. The spiral ridges were remarkably sharp, each calcified chamber narrowing in flawless sequence toward a center that ceased moving millions of years ago. Tracing the stony whorls under the low lamp, it occurred to me that few things endure the passage of time with such effortless composure. An entirely suitable companion to share the midnight stillness.