TRAILHEAD: CAYUCOS
The sea so calm
the tide so low
the light unfiltered
and not one sound —
not wind, nor water, nor birds—
It could be a painting —
of patience and time and coastline
and the way clouds marooned
by the daily marine layer
linger over one particular inlet —
a valley filled with coming and going,
between a monolithic rock and the
mountains to which it once connected.
[Cayucos is a small town located on the central coast of CA, between San Luis Obispo and Cambria.]
DOMINOES
After reading Jack Gilbert
and Jane Hirschfield
and realizing afresh
that I will never write poems
with such genius or power –
making associative leaps fly
from the wings of doves –
After coming home from
another day at work
surrounded by minds
much sharper than my own
and wondering how I dare
draw a paycheck –
After making a lengthy
but unhelpful list of my frustrations
and a much shorter one of my
thanksgivings—
After watching rain fall for
two weeks from steel skies
incapable of sun —
I write this modest diatribe
searching for that leap
that might turn darkness
into diamonds,
or at least incessant rain
into hot coffee and something sweet —
SPRING of 2016
The spring ground is wet and cool,
the chill bonding to the soles of my feet.
A teasing wind tosses my hair.
I am breathing from every pore
as the low light strikes my irises,
causing pupils to contract.
I will never be more alive
than I am right now —
my palms upturned and suffused with light.
Copyright 2019 by Martha T. Terrell
WordShelter.com 