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Safe Passage
Leaving the shore we traversed the dark sea towards
Nantucket.
The light on the bridge endlessly scanning the
void searching for the road markers that would lead us
safely on.
Rubies and emeralds their crowns beckon
and then fading into the night
leave only the sound of their bells and metal
clank,
clank, clanking, as we pass by unnoticed on their watch.
Cobblestone
Streets and paths
Cobblestone ways
The aroma of sea chowder and sea, breads baking, cranberry
stained textiles.
Memories of times and people long ago having reached their
port, their legacies silently speaking.
The Children of the Sea
Scrimshawed teeth and bone cut from the heart tell of
tempest and temptation, love and the lust of man.
Gentle beings, the shadows of their journey violently left
behind
to remind the children of the land about
the children of the sea.
Wildflowers
Waves of green flow across the sea of land.
Wildflowers…profuse…border well-trodden paths.
Knit by the Creator, the quilt warms the heart it
covers and the heart that sees.
Wind Chimes and Roses
Grey, cedar-shake encrusted houses amidst an ocean of green.
The smell of roses clinging to the cool morning air
and wind chimes stroked by
the breath of the wind, their melodies all intertwining.
Shore, Sea, and Sky
The waves lap over polished mountains and warm, white sands.
Dunes dotted with their tufts of straight hair stand guard over
treasures washed up from the chest of the deep
And the sky…
the
clouds…
the
wind…
the peace.
Here is where it all makes sense and here is where it all
begins.
Evening Fog
The fog rolls in past gas lit pathways filling the air with
its' breath and salty vapor.
The pungent smell of a once mighty oak burns in a hearth
nearby and crickets,
keeping their time as their time
allows.
Quickly it comes and as hurriedly it rushes away revealing once
more
the
heavens...
the
sea...
and the shore.
Out to Sea
As the sailors of yesteryear put out to sea I must pack my
gear and the same to do.
On to a new day and on to the end.
But taking in my heart, the etchings of days well spent.
Leaving only for the time, for the time to return again.
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