Monday, December 3, 2018
I watch the ins and outs of sandy bays
and rock coves,
wade the shallow water of the Salish Sea.
luminated by November moon.
With every breath I take,
prepare for life without sun and water
untiI finally, I can let it be.
You, Earth, are the apple of my eye,
who deserves so much more than we
seem able to give.
My pet flavors, colors,
favorites of everything
will to survive, to live.
This isn’t how it was meant to be,
the pulsing globe is a dying being.
In the garden of my all days,
bees never sting,
as I reread letters he wrote from the war.
The sound of surf, the eagle’s wings
on changing driftwood winds
take the pain from my swollen heart,
tend to the swelling
in my feet.
I’d like to be a doctor of pure magic,
ride Pegasus on Intergalactic winds,
string a necklace of sweet words
scented with Plumeria and seashells,
to hang around his neck
as a blessing for
for all I learned from him.