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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. 

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Welcome to the creative playground of Image, Sculpture, Verse.  I live in a river town nestled in the Chugach Mountain Range of Southcentral Alaska.



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