Luna

Since it was Sunday in late December

the sun perched softly behind a dark

swirl - and the distant dust

turned the last ray from red to pink

well before the dainty fingers

of her small hands could count to six

 

The tide was ebbing but left lopsided

lines of foam-beige brine surrounding

crooked batons of driftwood settling

for the evening - in wait of the dawn’s

salty brush and the mermaid’s call

that only the mullet could hear

 

Sandpipers skipped across the scrawls

where some spirited soul had neatly

spelled the name Luna and etched

a lazy heart in the sand

made barely legible by the suckle

of less than a half moon of sweet Gruyere

 

Holiday lamps from the shops in the village,

baptized by a light steam, lifted green and blue

watermarks off the horizon toward the mangroves

and left markings of indelible ink where crow’s feet

tried to sleep and halfhearted whelk

nestled as salt in recesses of aged eyes

 

The scent of the sea was mild

Then again just the thing to suit

The keenness of the cilia that lined

the inside of the only nostril that still behaved.

And though the Mumps had left one ear utterly deaf

I observed the pelican call

 

This was neither the place nor time to breathe meekly.

A wordless titter throttled my throat

and I asked myself how life might be sounder

 

Her lily white hand, half covered in sand

touched the truss in my mind.

Smiling out loud my deaf ear could hear

her juddering blood - for she was totally (and wonderfully) blind

Reviews

[sithlordjp]

Love the imagery of this piece, thanks for sharing!

[.]

i think i have been to this beach before...
today you took me back, and it's better than ever

[spider]

and i will walk it again in the morning .... with that thought ... lingering