not hearing the sea
after only four days
the waves have receded
the sound only registers
when I train my attention
on the pleasing steady unevenness
they’ve kept up below
ever since we arrived
so soon we become
senseless of wonder
even when it whispers
in our ears all day
blank calendar
a wheel of dolphins
corkscrews through
hammered tin wave
later
we take in
a submerged sunset
watery fire paints
even our limbs
good days happen
when nothing’s
on the books
disasters that didn’t happen
so close to the goal
he dreams it all goes wrong
every way at once
yes, you might drop
your book in the drink
keel over, tumble straight off the dock
forget your name and what you’re here for –
things do happen
plans do change
but as Bryson likes to say
most days nothing erupts
you don’t drift out into space
lightning doesn’t crisp your brow
the pit in your stomach
won’t better your odds
no matter how much of your day
it consumes
welcome to the unknowable,
& the relief of trusting
you’ll see your way through
each lovely disaster that unfolds
Owen took these photos.
mass migration
a river of frigatebirds
overhead
all afternoon
we crane our necks
barely believing
such abundance still exists
in this beat-up old world
their angular bodies
hardly beat a wing
merely stream like
living contrails
on target
on task
their every gesture says
certain
