So long as I am hanging on
I want to be young and noble.
I want to be bold.
So said the great buck, named Swirler,
as he stepped like a king past me the week
before he was arrow-killed.
And so said the wren in the bush after
another hard year of love, of nest-life, of
And so say I early morning, just before
wading the edge of the dark ocean.
I awoke to chicken sounds. I drove in mist and fog.
Swam in clear blue waters, got hot from too much sun.
Felt the familiar wave of inspiration wash
over me as I sat with my writing book and
favorite pen. I remember in a dance class I
once took when we would have trouble with the steps
my teacher would say, "Just let the dance wash over you"
This is what my hours and minutes are
like a slow and subtle washing over.
I am in a place I once lived. Exploring
all over again, Hawaii and it's smells. Old memories
lie in all of it. The buildings, the sounds of
flip flops on the pavement, the same tea at the
cafe I used to work at. I remember and I whisper
"Wash over me, Wash over me".