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