In summers past, hot and hazy, we wandered northern shorelines, sand whipping salt brine and vinegar enveloped, marveling that even the Amish possess swimwear.
I lingered at the taffy shop, toe-raised peering through smudged glass and candy bins, spying both worker and robo-worker pulling long tough ropes of salty confection and memory.
Our time on the path is pulled taffy, event-pummeled, tugged asunder, reunited bittersweet.
baked boardwalk beneath feet, cobbled personality planks stretching taffy of time
In summers past I was there. In summers present i am there. In summers beyond we are back there once again folded and kneaded smiling, reunited.
This is the back-end of forever, yet do not fear; the dying of the light is the dawning of the dusk: a wheel that we spin, a point that we traverse, a keeping of a promise, a memory of a scent, a vision of disorder, and the chaos in the calm. Cower. Rejoice. Repeat. Amen.
an old one, but seemed to fit the general motif for this collection