Denial

Wind swirled viciously,

threw freezing splats of rain

ice-cold from sea or mountain.

Cherry blossoms torn 

from thinning branches

flew helter-skelter

to puddled asphalt

denying spring her crown.

“A great wind is blowing, and that gives 

you either imagination or a headache.”

~ Catherine the Great

Beneath the Sea

Eelgrass meadows wave

in low salt water tide lines.

Watery shelter for a living sea.

“The world’s finest wilderness lies beneath the waves……”

~ Wyland, Marine Life Artist

Misty Memories

An expanse of deep blue calm stretched before me. At my feet, my old red canoe waited patiently for me. Cool water rose to my ankles while I pushed and floated my old friend forward. In this calm sea, I was confident that a short dip on the sea would lift my heart. My old fibreglass canoe had seen many, many times of family fun. I remembered the island that our little family had paddled to, the fishing trip when I lost my fish to my son on the other side of the canoe, the many days when I helped lift the canoe up or down from the canoe. This wide, calm blue in the early setting sun uplifted my heart, memories floating to my mind’s eye. Mist rolled toward us as I beached my old friend. We sat quietly, sided by side on the cooling sand.

“In every conceivable manner, 

the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.”

~ Alex Haley

(Poetry) Slam by the Sea

Coming in from the coldness of feeling
Blue and dejected about being tossed and torn
Belief that as sure as the sun was going down
Relief and release in my head was on the way
Formality left out on the dock to be
Picked over by gulls and crows
While an ageless, colourful audience gathered to 
Listen to five youthful poets slamming words
Tossed into delicious salads
Green leafed with ripe tomatoes
Drenched with rich vinaigrettes
Raised laughter and snapping fingers
Til I was warmed in my heart
Even though cold evening air 
Buttoned up my sweater and put roses on my cheeks

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and 

poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”

~ Leonardo Da Vinci

Rocks in a Western Sea

Great rocks buried beneath the waves,

their rising humps seem awfully brave.

Each day met with sun or cloud, and trod upon by a noisy crowd 
of seagulls, crows, dogs and me when we walk by this western sea.

The ocean covers more or less 

when tides roll in upon the mess 

of sea life clinging to the rocks;

icy water gives them shock, 
and quiet tides a bit of rest,

shallow water being best.

Looking down through water clear,

I see the folds of rock that steer

deep waters in from west or east

around this silent, solid beast.

The giant rocks as God created,

all to the Universe are mated. 

Pebbles small, boulders large, 

gigantic mountains all submerge,

to live outside man’s laws and creeds,

and lying still they do no deeds.

Caring not for good or bad,

they have not feelings, gay or sad.

A rumpled foundation for wayward feet,

the earth argues not, each time we meet.

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Changing Horizons

The seascape, flat in the distance, a curl at the edge, 

foot steps trailing in the sand.

A graveled dirt road lined with tall old trees

horizon barely visible behind shivers of leaf and pine. 

Filtered sunlight dappled the road ahead.

Dust rose from the road to meet shimmering heat 

when dirt road turned to softening asphalt.

Trees stepped away from the highway.

Ocher and terra cotta stained cliffs pushed forward.

Topping a hill of browning grasses,

clumps of rounded trees made dark cutouts on the horizon.

Vehicles ahead grew ever more distant or 

disappeared around a bend in the road.

Vehicles behind, mere dots in a rear view mirror, 

played peekaboo around more bends in the road.

Across a river, vehicles made a twisting mountain descent.

on a parallel but curving dirt road.

Coming down from mountain meadows,

a wide valley dotted with cattle, horses and sheep

splayed out between feet of granite-gray, snow covered mountains

that rose to pierce puffed white clouds drifting low between the peaks.

The highway, a thick grey thread, 

wound through passes

thick with fog or

bright with sunlight.

Down from the mountain

the grand golden prairies, 

spread out ahead of me 

edged in green;

white puffs of cloud on the distant horizon.

Return to the sea

or drive on through the prairies,

to hills with trees and scrub

or mountains of pine

all the way to the ocean.

So many vistas to enjoy.

So many challenges calling.

“A person only grows as much 

as his horizon allows.”

~ John Powell

A Serpentine Question

Black ridges of algae coated rock rise above shiny gray waves

Is it the ancient gnarled back of a diving sea serpent?

Or but a tiny shard of the massive earth’s crust

If the serpent rolls over

What will become of us?

"Set the foot down with distrust on the crust of the world--it is thin."

-  Edna St. Vincent Millay

I raced this evening...

...to catch the sun being devoured by clouds billowing white and gray

back lit by gold-leaf light 

throwing peach rose tints on distant clouds quickly shifting, changing before my eyes.

Fierce wind whipped my hair, my coat thin and useless against cold blasts.

Up on the bluff, surf and wind played in violent harmony.

A lone white and gray gull held steadily aloft in a wind tunnel playground, suspended in a powerful stretching updraft

wings spread, catching the strongest and best drift of cold moist sea air.

And over the roiling sea, curved brackets of silk
barely weighted down by tiny bodies - man or woman - too small to tell.

When the winds are wild, the playground is open

for those that dare!

"Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it."

~ Winston Churchill