Over and again does the sea cast a loving fury upon the living beach,
touching; touching; yes caressing;
for time unknown and with frigid fingers;
millions of quartz-beads that blanket with warmth the spit of land;
waves lunging to pull all into the darkness
of wet abyss beyond the reefs,
then pushing all back as rejected;
to the heat and…Continue
Billowing curtained sails fully expanded and taunt,
water lungs taking in oxygen and moving it to the heart of the sloop
circulated energy transferred to the hull with driving force
pounding waves aside in the rush to crest the next rise.
Deep blues surround the craft breathless and wild,
scalloped with white razor edges wind driven in the fury of the…Continue
In the first eddies of a blistering hot day-to-be
rolling waves of sun-ravaged wind cross the field between them,
and the parched land sees no respite in the skies above,
where an oven of air bakes the landscape crispend brown.
My son just made a comment that caught my attention. He has a friend in his twenties that actually blogs! He found that interesting because blogging in an "old people's" activity;...something for those over 45 years old.
Here I am thinking I am into something relatively new, and find out I am on the back side of the "cool curve" once again!
But it makes a sort of sense to me too. My son communicates in sound bites, not paragraphs. He…Continue