Sun’s first rays
pick at the blinds
teasing them open just a little
then
its long fingers stretch across the room
and tickle my face
Outside
the world moves
in slow motion
gulls doze on a diamond sea
whose only movement
is a ripple
as it turns over in its sleep
A few birds lazily patter
along the wet sand
in search of breakfast
Groaning, we pull on clothes
and say it is to find the best shells.
Unable to reconcile a relative of the onion growing among grape vines…
Je vois une femme mais, I cannot see what she sees (sitting alone dans le jardin)…
I love the sense of freedom and quiet the sights sounds and smells that I experience on an early morning walk Rabbits silently lope from spot to spot in search of breakfast an old dog greets us from well within his castle gates Occasionally someone else is also up and walking usually (like me) with…
Tumbled by the ocean through a sea of sand sharp edges begin to break Larger surfaces slowly acquire a brushed satin appearance trapping the light inside and the edges finally wash smooth Not unlike a cherished memory locked in the heart and softened by time
How far? I ask (is the ocean) whenever we are somewhere the ocean is not – often comes the reply “not far..” (Perhaps a few hour’s or a day’s drive) ‘Not far’ is a distance measured on the scent of a breeze something palpable in the atmosphere in fog rolling across the land ‘Not far’…
Words come framed, measured, controlled – ‘I have some bad news” how else is there to say it? Bad news is always bad I answer in kind (and it is never enough) how else is there to respond? and we reflect, philosophize (chase guilt?) we are adults Long ago December my father lay, dying of…