waiting for the wave to break
we’ve swum out to to where it forms
where ocean piles itself up
yawns into solid cliff
now waiting for the crushing violence
the thunder of collapse
not knowing quite how
we’ll get caught up in its path
Tag: ocean
waves 2020
waves 2020
the waves never cared about politics
conservative, liberal –
they would break the same way
with the same force
travel the same endless distance
across open ocean
but now the waves know
things are not the same
and there’s little they can do –
it’s so hard for them
to make little wet hands
to X out change
instead, the waves quietly whisper
vote for us
Leap Day
Leap Day
the leftover fragments of other years
cobbled together
to make an impulsive day
beyond the capability
of my wristwatch to reconcile
what did we pour into
this freebie grabbag of hours?
a luminous sunrise
over islands over water
firing the wood paneling
of our little cabin
watching penguins from our breakfast
of warm rolls dotted with butter
melting to pools
looking for pudús (always)
watching metallic green hummingbirds
zip from fuchsia to pine bough
rambling down the beach path
to join the penguins on the water
taking in the black and white
volcanoes across the way
that mark the continent’s spine
entering the blue white yellow
Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Chonchi
watching the stars wink
above a sea of incense and prayers
coming into Queilén, a warm haven
where the sea can sing to you
and the moon is tipped
in an unfamiliar way
every day is an uncertain gift
each date one that might never arrive
but some are imbued
with a bit more magic
sometimes we have the sense
to savor the day’s passing
before regret can even rise
Hector’s Visit
Hector’s Visit
he’s overcome
each time another animal chooses him
overjoyed they’d share a moment
today when the little dolphin
broke away from her pod
and frolicked all around the boat
saying hello a dozen ways
he was amazed
before that, when massive Toy Soldier
the show jumper nuzzled his shirt
he glowed at being touched
the little owl, blue penguin, purring cheetah
each animal he’s really met
says clearly to him
as if in his mother tongue
you are not alone
reconnects his hairless ape life
to the world of fur feather bone wild
his pressed palm feels a real heart beat
and remembers we’re all one
and someday
he’ll feel that in the tree and fern
skipping river and stinging wind
silent stars and now-cold stone
even the space between cells
the negative cloud where all’s uncertain
even there in the nothingness he’ll sense
we’re all one
he’s tethered to every last bit
including his four chickens
that haven’t yet hatched
Weka with a Walking Stick
Owen took this photo.
Weka with a Walking Stick
little tokoeka comes hobbling along the strand
planting his walking stick
in every likely bit of wrack
big clown feet marking up the beach
with dinosaur tread
tiny round bum barely balancing him out
and we’re all transfixed
our prayers answered
but this biggish bird just keeps going about
his jolly way
slowly becoming mammal
not realizing a whole people
have named themselves after him
south
south
sand like snakes
runs to the end of the world
long braided rivers of grit
fly a hair’s breadth above the packed shore
desperate to hurl every grain
into the insistent southern ocean
the greenstone sea claws at each stream
turns it under pulls it out deep
toward the aching cold white
where ice and pole call
in a shrill whine
that won’t be denied
at Green Cape Light
at Green Cape Light
I go looking for a light in the darkness
even on days the sun shines full blast
look up – magic everywhere
today: a wombat scratching his back with a lighthouse
my happy healthy mum watching an echidna
my family ringed by waves
thrusting our heads into the center
of a crystal lens
learning how to turn
a flicker of flame
into a broad-beamed beacon
to keep drifting souls
(especially ours)
away from the rocks
anywhere in the world
not-so-distant sea
not-so-distant sea
the unmistakable blue band
of watery bowl beyond
the this-and-that of land
is even better when
dashed here-and-there
with white hyphens
of bubbling surf
thirsty for wave: Agnes Water
thirsty for wave: Agnes Water
my toes, thirsty for wave
delight in the surf
wet sand sloughs dead cells
and salt air bathes
my pipes from sinus to lung
moonlight skips a warm glow across the crests
shifting from one end of the bay to the other
as I search the shore for turtle nests
here the ocean is as safe
as a wild thing gets
we are on agreeable terms
and my fingers loosen
dropping one heavy worry at a time
into the tide
then I edge away
knowing it’s a kindness
not to turn my back
