Returning to my senses

The sun is hot
and the land thirsty
for tonight's storm.

the surf laps up
the stony beach,
a thousand
whooshing
falls
and eddies
fill/draining
in randomness
near
rhythm

pebbles knock
and tinkle
on shells
all
along
the ecotone

leaves
whisper

infrequently
a distant motor
brings
a lobsterman
to dock

sometimes
a twackity-twack
of pleasure crafters
driving drunk
or, just too fast

but then
it's gone

and the
hummingbirds buzz
is sufficiently
loud
and
the slice and shush
of the coming tide
and the shake-shaky-shake-shaky trees
all shimmer
singing and dancing
on the wind

(July 19, 2011)

Ann-Patrice Hickey