Seasons of Change
Last stroll
in the Sanibel dusk
at the edge of a silence
shaped by the sea - a thin shawl of slow water a long sigh to mellow the shore
to reach my bare
feet to curl
sucklings of tiny
shells in a stealth of squibbles between my toes.... As I walk back from the ocean I stoop in the night
to scoop up a hush
of dry land
that wisps and sifts
between my fingers. Time to go. Last flight. In less than three hours I'm home
in Canada. Now
the same head
scoops up
the powder to hold a breath of white to fool the dark a whisper of stillness - a silence of snow...
