clouds and wind

Today the sky is an apt metaphor. There is plenty of light to see, but clouds have covered over the blue. I look up and I give thanks, but my heart cries out for the color I love.

clouds

On Friday I stood at my old beloved beach, Independence Park in Beverly. The sun was bright but the wind was harsh, and part of me wanted to leave. Instead I pulled up my hood and watched a cormorant frisking in the shallows. Instead I gathered sticks, shells, and stones and arranged them on the sand. Afterward, I watched the waves, noticed the swirl of detritus from the ocean floor.

beach

Lately I’ve been missing my usual vim and vigor. The sky is covered over. The detritus is swirling. I want magic words that leap me from this reality to another, but magic is not the answer this time.

I look up and give thanks. I pull up my hood and receive the wind.