In a sigh’s time the sand tells of the living,
imprints
of those who once were.
In the mist,
dreams,
refusing death,
live on.
A constant horizon
commands our sight,
offering nothing but a beyond
to lift our eyes,
or maybe that is everything.
Remembrance Day 2021
9/11
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg
for another poignant image.
A lone walker treads,
barely seen,
signing the sand
with transience
as have others
who signed
and vanished;
the sky bends low,
enrobing her with rain,
but lightly,
in deference
to her solitude.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
Beach blooms,
petal’d domes,
sand flowers,
airy homes,
a moment’s roof,
unwalled, unfast,
perennial border
edging the vast.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
The vendor vast
in winter blue,
we see self-serve
is nothing new.
Thanks yet again to intrepid photographer S.W. Berg,
tromping the beach in January cold.
Storm tinctured
ocean plies its blue
like cathedral window
unknowable mystery
ungraspable hue.
Soaring, long-winged birds
marvel in their way
borne on air and wonder
opalescent swirl above
liquid sapphire under.
Many more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
In feeble imitation
we aspire
in manmade constellation
of bulb and wire
to capture stars
of eons sired.
From night’s black depth
atop vast spire
two hoary lights,
amused, admire.
Thanks yet again to photographer S. W. Berg for this beauty.
And happy birthday to Emily Dickinson!
The day closes in layers —
palimpsest first
awaiting tomorrow’s script
inscribed by sandal and toe —
next water, rocking itself
in heavy-lidded blues,
slowing, nodding —
then birds, pulling cloud blanket
tucking in
a yawning world
dimming voices
on edge of dream —
atop, where wisps of day
linger like talcum
a so-distant moon
calls the stars.
Thanks yet again to photographer S.W. Berg.
