Hither Hills

Flops in the sand.

Prints made as I sit.

Yesterday there was whales.

Green and white

patterned blanket.

Two books to choose.

"I am", the other ~

a Vonnegut.

Who am I ?

Pages praising

energy I bring

is the energy receive.

I pay attention to

the energy around me.

A slow pinch,

moving my hand

upward on a

string of dune grass.

Letting it's vibration

coarse through me.

Feel the wind push

the same string in

my direction, like affection.

I feel comforted.

A seal in the breakers.

Feel the sand beneath me.

Little stones, quartz gems, as they are, from the ground~ under the sea.

Broken to pieces.

Yet still resonating

for their "I am's" ~

I'm a part of them too.

Take them in then

gaze on up at the ocean,

the deep ocean.

Waves today;

brought in by the big wind.

The spray by the mist,

the fog blue and grey,

and I watch the birds. A group of strong flyers, then the broken winged, solo,

alone in watching ~

watching the sea;

watching its equals.

They swoop in,

tussle more feathers.

He defeatedly flys unenthusiastically up,

sloping around, only to

land again as they leave.

As the surfers go out,

saddling their surfboards.

As the striper fish

pick their fisherman.

An older brother

baiting his younger ~

a fish is caught;

unhooked and thrown back before the other

gets to their bit of beach.

Brothers turn their backs,

one more determined

than the other;

back down the beach,

as a group of children

run past to see

the next big fish caught.

"I fry mine in butter "

yells the older brother.

Just as Trout retells

of his writings in Vonnegut.

Night time winds roll in.