Destin Beach, Florida

A place, a time, a memory.

The day was ending soft, the night had nearly come
I met you near the dunes, and put my arm
Around your shivering shoulders, as the breeze
Blew the autumn wind and slightly moved the sand

You, a matron now, whose children could not
Imagine as a girl, walked exceeding close to me
The smell of your perfume in every part of my
Being, and sparks coming off of your sweater

And as my hands moved through your hair
There by the darkening Gulf, we were

All that we could be

As the sky grew darker and larger

And we

Faded out of sight

That Day, The Sky

That day, the sky was blue and we
Could feel the sun upon our skin,
The grass was white and emerald, and
There was no crowd, no rush, no din —

Out there, the earth was ours to hold,
And so we held on, soft and long —
That day, the sky, and you, and I
Were perfect right,

And perfect

 
Wrong

Snapshot: Her Evening

How she spends an evening —

Her landlord’s kids have strewn the walk with toys;
She smiles as she steps around a trike.
She hears within a laughing, running noise,
The joy of children to the childlike:
And after some brief play, she’s off to hike
The longish stairs that lead her to her room.
She flips a switch to chase away the gloom

That never really leaves nor really stays
(Except when tears unbidden come at night)
But she is cheerful on the worst of days.
She pauses by the mirror at her sight
(The wind has blown today – her hair’s a fright)
But soon downstairs she goes to talk and eat,
Before she makes her evening’s long retreat.

Up in her room, she thinks of what she’ll write.
Ideas she has, like waves or grains of sand —
She’ll work on three or four of them tonight,
Then stop to listen to a favorite band
Remembering, at once, his darkened hand
And that he is no longer by her side:
The man who played the groom to her young bride.

The house is quiet, all the kids in bed;
The night is still and peaceful in the main:
And love has never died within her head,
Nor been defeated by the throbbing pain
Of heart so full, it cannot all retain —
But still, the graceful night enfolds its own,
And love surrounds her, even when alone

She broke last night.

The shattering was soft.

She broke last night.
The shattering was soft;
The aftermath was harder,
Though unseen –

And all that intellect can bring,
Was to but no avail;
There was no other’s touch
To contravene

The waves of sensate emptiness
Around her in that place:
The echoes of a missed
And present good —

The shadows seem to feel for her;
As do her friends – and cat –
She broke last night; but then
She knew she would