Waking up with coffee
and fresh BC bud on the front porch.
A perfect day in Manzanita to watch the ocean roll.
Morning sky transparent blue,
whiffs of white cloud,
infinitesimal parts of the water supply
on its random journey –
perhaps to LA or further down –
but somewhere along the way a droplet will condense
and spread out on the earth.
It will be repeated billions of times over around the world.
Streams and lakes will continue to flow –
the continual visible processes
of the earth maintaining herself will fall
on the good and bad alike,
they will drink and be revived.
Closer, and not so subtly,
a sparrow in the rhododendron
vocalizes a chromatic passage
interrupting my thoughts of the
woman still sleeping inside.
Smiling I wonder how life can be so perfect.
The process is the gospel. The
revelation that all things continue
and move on but that NOW they
Take note: it is an
immanent divinity that discloses herself so subtly,
so intimately, touching us all.
Do you see?
One wave after the other crashes,
the sparrow sings,
my thoughts roll with the waves one after another
keeping step with all that's going on...
the sea, the singing, the sun, the blue,
the intimate knowledge that this is eternity;
eternity here and now.
2: A Woman In Manzanita
The second morning at Manzanita
the ocean is dark slate green,
ever rolling into shore.
The sound is soft and continuous.
Today only the locals with dogs are walking.
I'm thinking about the virus inside and the death it brings
and beginning life again.
I'm thinking about the woman still sleeping inside
who has made me fall in love at this old age.
I am thinking of the random patterns of the universe,
the confluences of time and events
that have put this all together for my arrival
this particular morning in Manzanita.
I would take her to have and to hold
until matter and consciousness are one,
until our atoms mingle in the dust
and are reassembled.
We have the time.
We are eternal.
This is the process.
Embedded here for a moment
we’ve found a shelter in each other’s hearts.
Some days it may be cold
but the shelter remains
and we have a fire burning.
She smiles and I am warmed,
she runs her fingers through my hair
holding my face against her breasts;
"I don't want you to leave," she murmurs.
I feel her breath and sense her desire.
I am speechless,
a tear seeps past my eye lid,
my cheek is wet.
I have never felt so good. Never.