Sunday Seaside

Sight line ends
where water creases sky.
Rhythmic waves,
the breath of wind.
Gulls glide by in slow motion.
Clouds first pink,
turn violet grey.
Glisten paths upon the sea.
Surely I am in church today,
my knees upon the sand
seeking intercession
in genuflection,
closer my God to thee.

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Photos from beach by our deck in Provincetown. Assignment from my September 21 Day Challenge was to write a poem using the strategy of litany (listing) and end with a longer sentence, with a stronger meaning.

A New Day Dawns

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And the sun shall break forth,
blush clouds pink then shift
seep tinges of deep warm reds.

A lonely gull sits sentinel,
witness to the changing palette
as waves stir the sands.

And somewhere a newborn cries
seeks her mother’s breast
as seedlings sprout in a monet garden.

For this is a new day to claim
cause and determination for joy
because we can.

We touch, we live to love
this day another,
thankful
together.

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Home Then or Again?

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Scuffed Red Wing leather boots tread across forest floor. Trekking poles swing naturally at my side, two more points of contact to the earth. Closest thing to being four limbed.

Sun filters through leaves, beams on stands of gooseberry red, chokecherry orange and fiddlehead green. I walk through scrubby tree roots, climb over rocks to cross a stream, carried by wind and sun and bird song in the air.

Last week’s hike swirls fading as I maneuver city streets. Blue suit jostled, surrounded by tall grey, red brick towers that block the sun, save corners where green lights mean go. High heels comply, stumble from curb to pavement, and my feet ache again.

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Written from a September Challenge prompt: juxtapose opposites in a more subtle wording of contrast.  A prose poem.

Cool Waters

I lie perfectly still, face to sky
on a clear plastic air mattress
plumped with my breath.

Sea breeze ruffles tendrils,
flutter-touch my forehead
warmed by afternoon sun.

Softly bobbing near the shore
fingers trail in cool waters
while ocean croons its song.

I drift, eyes closed
through barriers of time
afloat in my mother’s womb.

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This was a challenging prompt in my September 21 Day Challenge course: Use description but notice the difference between language that shows the reader a world, and language that tells a reader what you (or your speaker) think about it or feel about. 

Riding the Waves

Gin and tonic on the rocks
atop a Cape Cod hill
overlooking white sail dots
on forever ocean scape.

I drift backward on the waves
to days on my old Boot Hill,
surrounded by empty fields
new subdivision coming soon.

Crouched low behind tall weeds
brambles with stick-on burrs
scratched knobby eleven year old knees,
we stalked bad guys never seen.

Rode horses round that dirt mound
inspired by westerns on console tvs.
Buster browns galloped and dusty laces flew,
head strong imaginations with no reins.

Parched by the high noon sun
horses unhitched and left to roam,
we walked home, hand in hand
to lemonade in aluminum glasses.

And we wondered how old
the Lone Ranger really was.

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Photo by Elvis Santana.