His hearing loss is going fast
Speeding past his aching heart
There's no foot on the brake
Just inches of peril
And how he wishes there was a pearl
One, one with life
Not one that now opens to a calamity
As old age creeps
Wrinkles and gray
Are part of the bay
As the sun weeps on the horizon
But his ears
And maybe his mind
Are a different story
He sees an impending sunset
Where the bay meets the sand
Where the pearls bask in the sun
There's still a splash
A tongue roars somewhere
He guesses
He sees the crescendo
A beauty, blues merging with white
Ripples and small waves everywhere
Seabirds might be squalling in the sky
He hears nothing
He feels a tap on his shoulder
His imagination
It's the whisper of the wind
For a moment he's at lost
Perils
The ones in the bay
The purples, whites, and golds mutating, too

Logan Robertson

2/15/2019