The Ancestress

I am an old woman sitting on the beach
pink scarf   holding back   windblown hair

a mother makes bird calls
to her children playing

they come running whistling   a secret code
huh.  a family of birds
beating wings   forever young.

growing up was a long paddle then
slicing the wind   feeling the board   slip
out from under you

fallingdown, standing up

falling down, standingup

wave riders make their own delight
like babies   learning   to walk.

the sea pitches windflower caps
in harmony with   ringing sand    underfoot

you hear the possibility of
pure clarity, good health

though season’s children don’t recognize
these   sad    retreats.

water builds and fills your ears

for you are now    swimming  with the ancients

glancing back
from time to time   you preen
to shore up morale?

I am an old woman sitting
on the beach
pink scarf     holding back windblown hair

I’ll sleep high in a monkey pod tree tonight

legs dangling in silk trousers,
butter cookies in a tin under my arm

dreaming of the young long boarder on her knees

paddling smooth strokes & with
fluid grace punching through

the    wild surf  of her youth.

Writer, Photographer, Nature Lover

What keeps me afloat: Exploring art, playing music, living in the mountains, wandering (following the trail ahead), wondering (looking up at the stars)…and writing it all down to share here, with you. I write poetry, children’s books, fiction, memoir, and non-fiction, because, we are so much more than muscle and bone: We Are Made of Our Stories.

I consistently wander off the beaten path, and I GO NOWHERE WITHOUT MY CAMERA

All photos and entries are copyrighted by author and cannot be used without permission