Summer Mondays
I sway back and forth, dancing with the motion of the earth as it spins unforgotten until the shape-shifting waters tremble. Ebb and flow, drift and twist – the briny freshness burning my eyes as I rub them with wrinkled fingers through button shut eyelids. Dancing with the raw force; now it’s soft and caressing, gently encouraging my limbs. And now it pulls and insists with or without my consent. My body is taut but compliant as I give my ground with as much grace as I can muster. And it pushes me like a skilled tango master, it’s fingers forcing my waist and hips this way and that. I emerge from the icy-but-refreshing (as only my Pacific Northwest Native mind would think) waters and feel the force of gravity hit me as though a harness has been thrown over my shoulders. I sway now with the perceived stillness as my body reacquaints itself with the predictable spin of the globe.
The sand is golden honey tan, slate pewter-grey and baby-cheek pink, and I rest with my head cradled in the warm lap of the beach. The robin’s egg sky above is broken only occasionally by a wisp of cloud or the geometric black and white wings of a gull. Every now and then the breeze kicks up and a chill runs the length of my body, lightening-fast eruption out of my skull, my hair on end as the energy of the cold escapes. For a thousand years I lay there; or maybe it is only a few minutes. My thoughts in and out of the present, called to the forefront only when my senses are confronted. I’m day dreaming grandiose plans; intricate and detailed, and impossibly optimistic – you’d think I was still six or something. And the raucous caw of the birds sings an afternoon lullaby into my wavering consciousness.
Tags: 1, Creative writing, Natural Wonders, Nonsense, Pacific Northwest, Posts by Bri, U.S.A., Tag Index
June 28th, 2009 at 4:53 am
The sea @ Cannon Beach, the sea @
Sydney, the sea @ Harbour Island with
pink sand finding a bottle with a note
inside. Dropped in the ocean off thecoast of France. Like wine coming from
across the Atlantic drifting westward
the current moves it to the Bahamas.
Will always remember the note to mail
back a card to a University in France
to chart the currents. Wine lady let’s
do the same with wine. Put a postcard
in a case & find where it goes. Questions
to answer. I’m a philatelist so We will
collect the postcards & savor the results
of wine moving across the world. South
Africa, France, Australia, Oregon, California
and Idaho. Wine the drink to bring souls
together. Yes! South Africa next.