I have stood on seashore
watching line of wave
overtake the sand in drench
lapping recedings following
tide to be pushed higher with
each waxing moon
this meeting fluid
leaves ears filled with rhythm
and eyes staring in filled awe
Slide over me
that I might like sand
be moved in the wet of you
then blown on wind to lie
until the moon again visits the tide
Im so glad Susan brought this one back up....
it's in my library..as are SO many of yours...
You posted this before my trip to VA and now,
reading the words after having been tide taken...they are even more stunning, and leave the moth aching to write like this.
wanna teach the moth-grasshopper how oh gifted sensi?
When you and that muse of yours come off strike *S*...maybe you and the moth can try another duet? You always could inspire me to write even when I thought there was no poetry left in me...
just ask Jake
You're the color of the sky reflected in each store-front window pane ...
You're the whispering and the sighing of my tires in the rain.