Low Tide Gift

And there they were,

tucked low and close,

among the sea stones. 

 

In search of mussels,

I found a star fish,

suddenly thrust into

a direct hit of sun.

 

A moment to make sense of this,

and then: 

more of them,

large ones, 

blue,

white,

coral,

star fish.

 

Low tide,

just minutes spent out of water,

I watched as the ocean returned

down into the crevices.

 

I went down, too,

and stayed,

lost in the reverie of tides,

as the water settled in around their arms,

opening,

displaying minute filaments,

white as pearl,

slowly reaching for,

rock,

kelp,

and each other.

 

And there I was,

caught,

not in a net, 

but in awe,

as each one vanished,

beneath the waves.

 

In Honoring Awe

There is a dog

who will die soon.

The waning hours

are upon us.

She isn’t much

in stature or fuss,

but her presence

can be felt,

throughout this country house.

 

I clean,

hold,

and write about her,

because a creature

with such dignity,

who is straining

without complaint,

compels me to feel,

an honoring awe.

 

As she looks me in the eyes,

through the glaze

of her waning hours,

I feel that life,

breathing now as it does

through this diminutive canine,

is always calling me

to pay attention,

with unapologetic commitment,

and without complaint,

in

honoring awe.