Sunday Morning Beachcomber

August 30, 2012

With face bent slightly forward
She searches the sand.
Beneath slow deliberate steps.
A translucent glow catches her eye,
An inner light reflected
Amid the grainy texture of the shore. 

Pausing, she reaches down
And digs a bit of beach glass
Out of the wet sand,
Its sharp, severe edges worn smooth
In the patient discipline of countless waves. 

She rubs the soft shard
Between a thumb and a finger,
Momentarily mesmerized by its even texture,
And then slips her treasure
Into an open pocket
Before resuming her measured mission. 

Behind her an old dog shuffles along
Nose twitching in the salt breeze
And at untold scents in tufts of drying seaweed,
Grateful for the leisurely pace
Of the Sunday morning beachcomber.



August 30, 2012

Seeds stirred beneath the frozen ground
A sleeping giant coming ‘round
Snow drops shook off winter’s gloom
The year I burst into bloom… 

Daffodils and crocuses,
Hyacinths and irises
Allysum gushed in snowy flume
The year I burst into bloom…

Roses red, pink and white
Wisteria reaching out of sight
Petunias led the annuals revue
The year I burst into bloom… 

The gardenia in my outdoor shower
Cranked out blossoms by the hour
Their fragrance put me in a swoon
The year I burst into bloom… 

Old ways found the compost bin
A new awakening ushered in
The gardener for my soul was you
The year I burst into bloom… 

And when September rolled around
Morning glory blues abound
And daisies greet the harvest moon
As days grow shorter all too soon

I cast aside my spent cocoon
The year I burst into bloom…
The year I burst into bloom.



August 30, 2012

The tide slips imperceptibly
Toward the farthest edge of the bay,
And in receding shallows
Gulls and children play. 

Lovers walk fingers folded
Form a giant fist,
From parked car to soggy bar
The slightest chance not missed

To look into each others eyes
With loving longing gaze,
And see the world reflected there
In evening’s amber haze. 

Yawning Spring reluctant seeps
Into this thirsty land,
Peepers peep lovers to sleep,
Daffodils their promise keep,
And rising waters slowly creep
To cover waiting sand.