Creative Work

Creative Work

Here an island

Here an island

The sea rises again and again, pushes, pulls, leaving me here, taking me there, now everywhere; horizon mocks, tells stories, calls me names, gulls laugh, cry, I too, in tears, spittle and sweat; colors go dry, blue to grey, white to haze, fog rolls, erases everything.

Pinwheels

Pinwheels

I make my own pace here on a beach that was my home and now a resting place for a tired body and full spirit. It was a good day. I have missed nothing, and yet everything.