Bare soles in November tides
on oceans sand

Reborn in dune pocket
sheltered from bays wind
as new moon is carressed
by mist and cloud fantasies

Reborn in flicker of kerosene lamp as night wind surrounds our shack in symphony

Below, waves provide their own orchestral invention

My ears - reborn - now finely tuned to hear what is.

My wealth lies in my dreams

ever awakening to new tomorrows -

The winds buffet them about, impale them on my ribs, toss them into the bay -

But puff after puff I dream them up again

and soar skyward,

holding their kited tail

in my aging hand.

Our journey’s

with the turning

of the planet earth,

the movement of the tides,

and the cobwebs

on the stairs.

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