I’ve spoken to the winds
That called out your name
Land beyond now
Clouds in the sky
And seagulls spread out on
Distant parkade
Rustling leaves
And grass that waves.
Tag: seagull
Sea or Sand (day 2618)
I am an unconditional innocence
Floating upon a wave
I see seagulls and sea lions
And sea urchins miss my toes
Unlike sand betwixt each tinglingly
Refreshingly searching for home
Amidst sand pipers and sand dollars
And sand fleas and tuna salad
That I only step in
Because I like the smell of this salt.
Ocean Air (day 1828)
To breathe the first breath of ocean air
Deep into my starving lungs
As sun dips down to half past seven
I realize the tide’s becoming.
Even with my toes exposed
I find salt refreshingly tickling my nose,
Seagulls cry in celebration
And driftwood leads me forever on.
I roll my pants to half mast
And whistle to a little snail
Who’s slowly off to go out sailing
And I, my eye, to the clear blue sky.
Boardwalk of Whiterock (day 1823)
I remember high waisted love
I had to try on
In summertime I was
A hopeless romantic singer
Sentinel at my perch
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.
Every passing and going
It was summertime affair
I heard wind blowing
Seagulls culling
And I out to my sea
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.
Now my vessel aboard
Sunglasses and a city of scores
Tide’s low sandy toes
And my voice crying out loud
For nighttime’s aglow
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.
At Nothing Rest (day 1670)
I’ve left my full moon walking the shoreline, skirting the tides that flush out madness awake and away.
Can your heart feel the holy trinity at rest?
Rocks I picked up and felt cursing through my palm left light stains upon my fingerprints I had washed thoroughly before opening my eyes. I laid down and felt the uncomfortable massage upon my twisted back and hoped the pain would soon ease its way back toward the crashing ocean cooling my pride.
Here, from my breasts, a light slowly eroded my choice.
Lightly brushing my consciousness were scattering rocks and squawking seagulls rummaging the midday sun like a busy squirrel exercising it’s memory.
I was gone, and this is what was left.