Low Sun on Broken Water
Low Sun on broken water the glory of half the year. Short days of intensity beaten, hammered silver under a clear dome of sky. A bowl upended overhead, horizon sharp and commanding, beckoning us to see beyond its rim. Such it’s always been. Such it will remain. Buff sand holds us anchored to harsh realities, grit and sinking softness demanding as clear cold water. The void above filled with boundless joy. A day to live. A day to hold onto when clarity is lost and obscured by fogs and hunger’s bounds of necessity. Such it’s always been such it will remain. Buffeting wind, the voices of waves sky, sea beyond, sand;calling us into their presence. We long to be here. We long to stay. Caught, visitors on the edge. Such it’s always been. Such it will remain. Abundance, there once was its promise there in each jeweled wave. Mourn its loss. Remember, it will return. It’s our place that is in question. Such it’s always been. Such it will remain.
58 poems, 242 pages.
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