The Sea, part I

A fierce open sky

impossible exacting clouds

majestic/crystalline edges

against grey and deep blue

a wide wide open ocean

the silence of an

unpeopled sea—

we stand on sand dollars
he says: 'walk here and

you will feel them'

I dive under and see:

layers of cream-white circles 

softly rocking in cream sand
he tells a story of sharks

later we walk

not holding hands

he is just above my height

on the uneven beach

just there--

a changing rivulet

a sea of hermit crabs

herds and herds

emerging from their holes--

as he walks towards them

they scuttle away
in waves

'the beach is closing'

he says

‘we must go’

(what irony! closing for

whom? not the birds or crabs

or rivulets or sea)

we return to our place

quickly shake off

our blankets and bags--

rushing back to the car--

driving home in silent darkness

I wonder: 'what is it to fall in love?'

awakening in a fierce open sky

open wide in an open sea

sometimes shivering--

sometimes ecstatic-- 

noticing noticing

such small things as 

sand dollars 

beneath our

feet.

Part II.   
In january, alone--
up north--
    it snows and snows --
I dig myself out (again)--
unfold the pages of my words:
what was this day at Fort De Soto beach?
what majestic clouds?
what scuttling crab?
what sacred white beneath my feet?
what ocean man?


Part III.
spring, spring light
my garden awakens
birds--blues and reds
the wonder
the joy
the birth
I know now--

It was
the wide wide open sea
             in me
    


October/10 and June/11