The ocean lifts its skirts
to follow the moon
and across the inland sea
a great wave of water empties.
Running like a river
toward the opening void
the bays and coves
throw themselves into the chase,
the vast expanse giving up its wealth
for the poverty of the pilgrim.
I toss my importance into the tide,
the swirls of the ebb gathering the weight
like a thin branch on the water
lifted by the passion of the sea.
The little I have passes
in early light without goodbye,
leaving me exposed
like the weed covered rocks,
weightless and dry,
open to the mystery.
Apparently, Don, you don’t think of South Bend when you describe these landscapes. Thanks for sending this and all other poems.
This is a beautiful poem, Don. I love the imagery, and the clean openness to mystery which lingers with one.
Love the sense of complete abandon.
Come…let it go quickly !
right on!
We are all exposed to the mystery, whether we know it or not…
This poem had me singing the lyrics from a G.L. song
Drink your glasses girls and boys
It’s time to hit the sky
To the tune of thunder
There’s no time to wonder why