Their Depths of Slumber

This new-found calm is alarmingly serene.

Quit from all things old, plastic and shallow.

As if plucked from a faded dream, I allow it in.

It has begun. I’ve wondered astray into their realm.

Grains of sand begin to appear on their own.

A delicate ghost cloaked in reality sits at the foot of my bed.

And behind it’s faded veil, I know who it is. 

Tiny bodies know this place, but never remember.

But I do. Somehow I have been allowed to return here without dying.

Their breezes slide into my pores and out again.

All consciousness has jettisoned.

They’ve held it’s secret place safe so long.

On transparent twine I descend through ocean’s waves

to my deliverance.

Permission To Pause

Wake up to the fog lifting, the sun begins to poke through. Pour a cup of coffee. Anacapa island, the oil rigs. Gulls sail past large palms trees towards the beach where groups of sandpipers scour the water's edge leaving their familiar footprints in the sand. A low flying group of California brown pelicans bank hard and move out to sea. The tide recedes exposing pools chocked with sea urchins, and periwinkles. A train blows its horn in the distance. Silver clouds linger across the mountains and the grey morning sky gives way to blue.