North Haven in the Sun
On a sunshine day cracks deepen. Speaking trees breathe. An inlet runs smooth with coastal water; indigo deep between granite space. Forever tongues collide against my rocking heart. Stone pebbles rest at peace for now, lying next to a fine toothed comb of sand; my brown purse adrift til it comes home. |
The Island
Sun bleached stones lay soft on the beach. Rocks span the approach to blue depths; a chill blue, like the wind which crosses the horizon. Clouds scatter as waves crest white and churn the surface that carries us home. Across the breadth of ocean we float in a direction we think we know, but where we end is never quite where we began. Wind and blue, clouds and sun, and all that vast openness change us, and move us in another direction; to a home we never knew before. |
My Dress
My dress hangs on the wall. My dress is pressed up against the wall, all painted and full of grace. Colors splash along its spine. If I lie against the wall, will my dress cover me down to my knees, or float to the floor for my wedding? It breathes onto my shoulder; hovers there with a touch, a chill. I lift it off the wall and put it on; arms outstretched, chin pointed to the night. My breath floats the chill out through open lips. As I give my dress my life, in turn it saves my own. |
Green Mountain
Trees stand on the old man like whiskers. His breath whistles through boulder teeth cleansing down-slope breezes. I hear him at night rumble and moan, cracking his knuckles. The air is sharp and cold. I whisper him secrets; old songs to remember, old faces to leave behind. Each April again we elope; traveling through bird song and greening trees. Slowly my life ripens, resting next to his rough shoulder, napping in the sun like an old brown dog. |