CHOICE
I remember how the wind
shook the lake out
gently
as you would shake a blanket
gently, a worn blanket
you were afraid to tear.
It was evening and the water cold
beneath, but on the surface warm
where from the westering sun
waves came
nuzzling at the slippery fur
of lakeshore rocks.
I picked my way over
the slime and lichen
and kneeled into the curving wet
until my flesh blended
into that kindred flow
and swam until moonrise
glistened the lake
and the forest went all ghostly
and there was no more wind.
Was land or wave my home?
I must have chosen land.
I remember how the wind
shook the lake out
gently
as you would shake a blanket
gently, a worn blanket
you were afraid to tear.
It was evening and the water cold
beneath, but on the surface warm
where from the westering sun
waves came
nuzzling at the slippery fur
of lakeshore rocks.
I picked my way over
the slime and lichen
and kneeled into the curving wet
until my flesh blended
into that kindred flow
and swam until moonrise
glistened the lake
and the forest went all ghostly
and there was no more wind.
Was land or wave my home?
I must have chosen land.
Ted
Black, 4/8/2013
Beautiful work, Ted. I chose land, too, but still I can't be far from the waves...
ReplyDeleteDear Ted,
ReplyDeleteand I, too am drawn to the ocean's edge
where water, air. earth and fire meet
watch the surfers who are drawn to ride the biggest waves
I, so much like them....waves and surfers...
and love, like my little grandson
to stay until the sun has bathed the sky and water with its color
and the moon sparkles on the glassy peaceful sea....
Much love,
Mary Kobe