Light slants across the channel
burning away the clouds
and early morning fog.
I sit and watch, my food
the slow thoughts
that come with the tide,
filling each crevasse
with the softness of the sea,
lifting me, a weathered log
weightless on rising water,
ready to journey on.
Thankful that I feel the same… Beautifully said as always Don…
No matter how weathered this log of mine is, I continue to feel that “lifting” current of Life into places of insight, joy, and lightness. I’m thankful for that and you, brother, for your companionship as we journey on.
Such joy and release I feel through this poem, Don. I love the image of “slow thoughts” and the “filling” of “each painful crevasse” with the gentle mothering ocean rocking me on my journey with you. My love is with you. My heart is opened further by the truth of your words.
I marvel and wonder in joy at the deep love between you, men. It is this I am most thankful for.
Being buoyed up by your shoreside reflection in Gratitude.
Nature befriends all who soak in her wonders. Your words of astonishing gratefulness reach my heart and soften and elevate my moments. We are all nurtured by this dance, and your invitation to witness her friendship.
I’ve explored this metaphor myself–at least, it seemed so right that I thought I had, anyway! Makes me want to schedule a getaway to the beach real soon!
Eloquent –
—
filling each painful crevasse
with the softness of the sea,
lifting me, a weathered log
weightless in the rising water
—
Gratitude, Don…as I quietly pack for my next journey, celebrating each detail, one moment wistful, the next, gleeful. Outside of me, an endless stream of “traffic” on the motor way–not my way. One cannot motor and dance at the same time…
Thank you, Don, for the banquet your poems are for us.
The pause that replenishes us….ah!
‘my food the slow thoughts that come with the tide” … and how deeply nourishing they are …
You have a real talent with water and sea-related imagery. I love it.
one of your very best I think.
everything is sore and creaky, and still we saddle up or raise the sail—how could it be otherwise?
thanks for the thoughtful imagery