Thursday, 29 October 2015


The light called me to the beach this morning.

I went, knowing there were few days left till winter.

Knowing the best of the fall colours were past.

Perfection wasn't what I wanted.

What was I looking for?

The wind. The light. The gulls and the spray.

A small group gathered to say goodbye to one they loved. They huddled close against the wind, below the bluff. A gull above. Gliding.

We gather against the wind, all of us here, we cling to one another.

The mourners burned incense. They scattered flowers and fruit at the border of two worlds. Waves accepted the offerings, carried what was given to a place we cannot follow.

The gulls and the light and the fading colour.

Gusts animate the sand. Alive, shifting. Blowing away from me.

And the gulls. I've been blind to their beauty. Look, look.

What could be commonplace here? They turn to face the wind. Dig in.

Have you seen sunlight illuminate their bones?

Geese push into formation.

The gull flies.