I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

8 April 2014

She Is

She is on the beach, picking up stones.
She bends to examine marks and colours.
It’s a warm autumn day, but very windy.
Her little carry bag is blown sideways
despite the weight of stones and her thongs*.
(She likes the feeling of sand in her toes.)

“I’m going to paddle my feet in the water,”
she says to her friend. Her friend comes too.
“Careful,” she adds, her friend being a stranger
to this beach, “The ocean plays tricks. It chases you:
entices you in too far, then pounces.”
Sure enough, the tide draws way back, and waits.

They stay on the edge. When at last it returns
with a sudden surge, it catches them only
up to their ankles. They sample it again, 
spreading over their feet, which drink it 
through soles, through skin;
then they retreat up the warm, firm sand.

She throws her arms wide, crying out,
her face lifted up to the sky. The sky is full 
of dancing clouds. Her friend also dances.
Finally they rest on the wooden bench
overlooking the vista: sand, surf and sky.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” they agree.


*Note to Americans: “thongs” is the Aussie term for what you call flip-flops.

April PAD Challenge 2014, day 7: Self-portrait.


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