If they looked down they would crash into the water. The birds have to look ahead and chase the fish. Fight the breeze. There is not time to look at oneself when you are soaring.

I have seen them at the shore, after their bellies are full and the wind is not to strong, the young have been feed. They preen themselves in the light of a setting sun. I think that is when they take the time to see themselves. at least I hope they do. And I hope they see how beautiful they really are.

After the storm, my mind cleared.

And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.

running quartz crystals through a blender.

sand through your engines.

bubbles in your bays.

estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas…

sand through your eyes.

5 June 2007

Calm as baby’s breath

as peaceful as the storm’s eye

Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds

a warm and windy tropical day.

7 June 2007

Black water at dusk.

Lighting on the horizon.

Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.

A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.

And Thunder like God clearing his throat.

8 June 2007

Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.

a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.

bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.

9 June 2007

Tickled her fancy.

giggling all the day long.

pretty good for a Saturday.

Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.

She smiled big–grinned really.

12 JUne 2007

A silver sky

ripe for the mirror.

you can not see yourself in this mirror

you can only see others

moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.

Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.

Birds skimming low over the water could

like as not

see them selves if they were to look down

as they skim low over the water

but they never do.

Rather they allow their reflections to chase them

quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters

while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on

food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.