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’
is the rhythmic, plaintiff cry
marking that place
where shore and sea
precipitously meet.
Fascinating – high in the sky, flying free (with a safety line that might break and then again maybe not) – an exhilarating place to be. A flyer of kites must have faith to let go and toss it into the wind so it can rise to great heights. To know when to reel it…
One by one bright colors rise silently into the sky Each evening throughout the summer it is the same: boys and men and their kites drawn to the empty beach A few kites soar and dive recklessly only to crash in the water or lay lifeless on the sand – others seem to strain against…
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
Stepping across the threshold leaving one reality, embracing another – if only for a few moments Inside a fan mutely, slowly bathes the room in a slight breeze long, slender blades dip (ever so slightly) as if to caress my husband resting in the bed below were it not for the four posters standing sentry…
Driving into the neighborhood tonight rain lightly falling, two fawns nestled in the common area lingering in the moisture-laden darkness A few curves away two adult deer ran alongside my car for some distance before leaping ‘cross the road and on to the creek The rain finally came grand thunder, lightning, hail (and power outage)…
Eden sacred ancient sanctuary vines climb through mist to the blue light and explode into exotic summer Beneath the earth shines with winter frost Peace