I attended the Friends of the Dunes’ annual dinner event last Saturday. A poet, photographer and musician treated us to a collage of words, images and sound. Inspired, I wrote this:
lurk in shaded places.
Beach pine branches intertwine,
a tree cave, flush with green.
I emerge into open,
to sand sculpted by the wind,
then changed and changed again,
a landscape ever in flux.
My backyard. But the backyard
of others, too. I know this –
but only from the footprints.
My solitude stays intact.
Iron sky made soft by fog.
The matching sea crashes brilliant white.
Buckwheat, goldenrod unfurl across the dunes.
The scent of saltwater tugs at my brain.
I inhale, thanking no one –
and everyone – in particular.
I exhale and burdens evaporate,
unneeded for now.