Sunday, January 20, 2013

Ancestress

I am an old woman sitting on the beach                      
pink scarf   holding back   windblown hair                   

a mother makes bird calls 
to her children playing

they come running  whistling   a secret code
huh.  a family of birds
beating wings   forever young.

growing up was a long paddle then 
slicing the wind   feeling the board   slip
out from under you

fallingdown, standing up

falling down, standingup

wave riders make their own delight
like babies   learning   to walk.

the sea pitches windflower caps
in harmony with   ringing sand    underfoot

you hear the possibility of
pure clarity, good health



though season's children don't recognize 
these   sad    retreats.   

water builds and fills your ears
for you are now    swimming                                  
with the ancients

glancing back 
from time to time   you preen
to shore up morale?

I am an old woman sitting  
on the beach
pink scarf     holding back
windblown hair

I'll sleep high in a monkey pod
tree tonight

legs dangling in silk trousers,
butter cookies in a tin under my arm     dreaming

of the young long boarder on her knees

paddling smooth strokes & with
fluid grace punching through

the    wild surf    of her youth. 










  





7 comments:

  1. Thank you. The thought occurred to me: normally I would grab the boogie board and jump in, but maybe I shouldn't...

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  2. Very eloquent. I love the use of surfing as an analogy for the seasons of life.

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  3. Dreamy and filled with timeless memories. Beautiful!

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  4. Thank you so much, Marcie. Means a lot!

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  5. Nothing like the sea to call up both the passage of time and timelessness . . . I found the implied pause between 'pink scarf' and 'holding back' especially evocative.

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  6. Tiny losses...and acceptance. Thank you, Deborah.

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