running shoes and racing down wet streets. Leaping over puddles. Kite flying.
I love the transitional seasons best. Autumn is my first love, but who could not fall for the moment you recognize the days are getting longer, and the air's losing its nip?
Here on the Sunshine Coast I imagine campfires on the beach and having friends over to play guitar. Parking on one of the beach logs with a glass of wine and watching the sun melt into the orange horizon.
Yesterday was about the yellow crocuses along the Davis Bay esplanade, and deciding, finally, to start documenting the shorebirds and ducks so I can recognize them without a doubt.
 |
| Yellow crocus. |
 |
| Surfird. |
 |
| Glacous-winged gull. |
"Cinderella dressed in yellow, went to town to meet a fellow ..."
or
"My mother and your mother were out washing clothes ... "
On Valentine's Day, we took our ball gloves out on the beach and played catch. Years since I'd done that. Still love the smack of it. The jumping and stretching and chasing after.
I've noticed in my work, too, I'm frequently inserting references to childhood.
From Wretched Beast, and the poem "Where He Takes Me":
"I am so simple. This is a tale of gusts
and sun, and I say: Close your eyes,
count to one hundred
in the the tall grass and find me, find me.
I am shadow leaping tree to tree, further, not far
from badger holes, deer dung, and fox."
_______________
An excerpt from "For You"
"and in this mew of light
I am a stone freed from a child's fingers
above a ravine, a trick
in measured-motion,. I wish you
had known the girl I abandoned in cattails
beside the forzen slough. Forever
in a suede jacket with fringes, wet mittens
caricaturing my hands. Shivering. Then, as now, sky
closing in, the cap of a blue-grey mushroom.
tidal. Winter winthin its waves."
