When the wind blows right through downtown Ocean Shores I always wonder how the IGA still has enough shopping carts for all of us. I imagine all the shiny blue carts running east toward Duck Lake, perhaps some of them peeling off into the trees to hide in thickets before they go off a bank and get dunked.
The wind blows hard at the IGA... why do I buy groceries on windy days? The answer is...
it blows harder in town than it does out at our house. I don't realize how windy it is in town until it's too late.
Today was still - a great day to buy groceries, except... it was twenty-two degrees. Bright sunshine without a breath of warmth, the canal froze... mallards swam right up to the icy edge and stopped short. Eventually they disappeared back the way they came. I suspect mallards have no use for ice or very cold sunny days.
--------------------------------------------
When the Wind Blows
An eerie twilight falls, I step outside
quietly observing hazy shapes
grazing in the yard…
soft brown bodies browse among the weeds
stripping green from waving moss and leaves
moving in the midst of swaying willow trees
some prance and dance among themselves
then some begin to scent a changing breeze.
Strong gusts of wind sweep leaves
across my sandy tennis shoes
leaving empty space…
concern descends in breaths of salt and surf
cascading off the tossing tops in drizzle drops
of streaming rain that chills them to the bone
then hazy grazing shades of brown move on
as shadows blend into a murky underground.
Lost in isolation beneath the eaves
chilled and shivering in silence
my apparitions vanish…
in twisted brush through tangled overgrowth
to sticky thickets choked in purple berry bush
entangled vines that wind and twine beneath
chilly hooves of wilted ghosts in velvet coats
with gentle violet eyes that glisten in the mist.
My mind is overwhelmed by shadows
blending in and out of busy lives
banished in the haze.
Everyone stay warm now.
Peace, Mary Ann
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment