pensiveI lay here on the cool sheets
under the whirring fan,
and dream of floating on lapping water
warm water,
green and diamond sparkled in the afternoon,
and the cry of seagulls
and the smell of salt,
and remember how it called,
and how it felt to wade in it,
and just sit on the shore,
watching the pelicans at sunrise.
Sitting up,
my heart uneasy,
I look out the window at mountains
and consider how it feels to be up in the heavens,
in the silence and wind
sitting there in the meadows
listening to the trees –
a good place,
yet I know
the mountains do not have all the answers,
and at last, even they will wash down
into the green depths.
It is powerful,
the call of the waters –
if even the mountains cannot resist,
how can I?
