On the Yearning Shore
In the quiet hours between night and day, the earth turns to the coming dawn. First light ruffles the water, lying still beneath night’s blanket.
August 31, 2025
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In the quiet hours between night and day, the earth turns to the coming dawn. First light ruffles the water, lying still beneath night’s blanket.
Cloud breaks reveal the moon as light spills across the water, rousing the quiet land. Old roots stir, ancient trees and stone canyons find their
The swelling windless tide eases into the cove, to quench the gravel beach in a slow languid laze. Seagrass barely stirs, even the crows are
(for Humphrey) Along the rugged shore broken faces of old stones, full of ancient records and passages of the sun. I hear their heartbeats in
First light breaks, winds rise to rustle the sea. The sun sings awake, and over the broad expanse life stirs its deep green bed, as