Between ifs and whys,  
Life's questions softly whisper,  
Truths in doubt arise.

How fine it is to see
these waves roll
upon my beach,
To watch the sun dance
and play its light on
the water, like a vast
array of precious gems.

What a joy to feel the cool
power of the tide curling
around my legs.

These same waves perhaps
have embraced a thousand
other beaches, and have
belonged to strangers unknown,

But today these waves, this beach,
this moment belongs to me alone.

𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑗𝑎𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡,
𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑠;
𝑂 𝐴𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚!
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙
𝐼𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠
𝐼𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠...
𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠?
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓
𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤
𝐽𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦....
𝐴𝑧𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠...
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑠.....

My boyfriend Peter’s like smoke, he’s elusive. He doesn’t always carry his phone.

There’s a crosswalk in Tokyo, it’s in all the movies. The light changes and hundreds of people walking in different directions meet - but they don’t collide - they make room for each other, flowing around each other like water.

Peter and I make room for each other. Then we come together and we make something. We’re of such different textures - we come from stark counterpoints but somehow, we mesh.

He’s the first person I go to with an idea because I trust him and I think he understands me. He’s my secret weapon. His advice is a coin I’m careful with.

He’s gone through the long slog and achieved a dream. And he did it poor. He fought a guerilla war with almost no resources. He lived in crowded spaces, existed on Ramen noodles and saltine crackers, taking any job to cover.

He’s practical, goal oriented and he can be unsympathetic. He’ll whisper, “Nutup up, tinkerbell - you’re such a baby,” but there's a supportive energy to it - and he’s usually right. He heralds a reality I’m not always used to.

Anyway, he was smoky tonight. I couldn’t reach him. Sometimes we go over a week without talking (I'm not always reachable either) and when we do, it feels intimate and victory-like.
.
.
Song for this:
Come in from the cold by Marc Broussard
One Two Three by Hooverphonic

How long do we get?
How many can we fit inside?
I reply like it's the first time
Gotta take pride

Have my ******* jokes
It makes them laugh
"Mind you're rowlocks" when you step inside lad's.
Watch out for the crocodiles, they escaped from the zoo.
Just over the side
If you need the loo.

Lookout for the terrapins
I can tell you think it's a joke
But it's true
Don't believe me?
I'll show a picture to you

Where did they come from?
During the winter, where do they go?
Never answer
"I don't know"

I've held many positions
From the bottom to the top
Some good
Some bad
They kept me a float
But never been happier
Helping people, inside a boat

~
Sun drips
on leaves

not the backyard variety
but the trembling kind

the kind
that welds night-time
intermissions to
the roof of the mouth

sonnet-filled
evaporation
reveals
the timely concealment of
a very, weary
inanimate object
at the brink

just enough hip
to be woman

just enough wild
to be frontier
~

A smile is the first invitation to everything.
With a smile many doors and hearts
will open.
Yes, I see you.



Shell ✨🐚

With heart and soul, I ventured forth so bold,
To climb the peaks and reach the distant goal.
Dreams carried high, I faced the tide so cold,
Through paths so tough, I played my destined role.

Through nights of doubt and days of endless strain,
I chased the light through sun and pouring rain.
In every fall, in every step of pain,
I found my strength, a fire within to reign.

And though the stars seemed ever far from sight,
My spirit shone, a beacon in the night.
For in my quest, no fear could take the light,
I lived with grace, embraced my inner might.

Though victory may not have been my prize,
I lived with courage, and at least I tried.

With Highway One almost completely to myself
North of San Simeon
I find a pristine ocean on my left
Green covered hillsides on my right,
And a warm sun in a light blue sky above.
The stresses of the city and my topsy-turvy life
Begin to fall away as I relax and revel in it,
All alone here in my faithful Jetta.

When the night's moon is a quarter
She stands in breast deep water
The skylight beams on her wish
If comes her way a catch of fish.

She's the robust woman of night
And it's no fancy's flight
She gritfully spreads her net
Even when the river is in spate.

She knows well when the tides swell
The games are not easy to catch
Where the river meanders to a curve
She waits low tide holding her nerve.

When the silvery streaks struggle for breath
She looks not real but a myth
A mud princess with a golden heart
An apparition seen but can't be touched.

On a river with eons of length
She struggles with all her strength
I won't ever get even a chance
She's too focussed to give me a glance.

I don’t believe in heaven
But if I somehow did
I know you’d be there waiting for me
How you were back when you lived
I don’t believe in heaven
But if I went there I would see
Three little furry faces
So happy to see me
I don’t believe in heaven but
Sometimes I wish I could
If you had ever spoken I think
You’d say that I should
Because
The closest I’ve been to heaven
Was being loved by you
The innocent love from pets now lost
Is the truest love it’s true