first piece for poetry class

Inland

 

This April morning the

Buds burst beneath

A blanket of snow.

Our mountain is shrouded

In thick, cool fog,

My skin cracked and dry

After a week back,

All ocean memories a wash,

The sand has stopped seeping

From books and pockets.

We are officially inland.

I think of you

As we said goodbye

To our ocean home.

You who always preferred

The rocks and mountains,

Bright, red earth and staunch yucca

High elevations and impossible ascents.

But ones affections

Shift with age, as our

joints stiffen, temples gray,

 responsibilities mount.

Our jobs so serious,

Our children so big,

Our parents frail and unpredictable.

I see you,

Faded board shorts, Aviators,

Skin smooth with sun and sand,

Face austere, serious

As we wait for the coastal train.

The kids irritate,

You pace and command and then,

Finally,

Stop and meet

The horizon.

I think I see a

Tiny tear

Make its way down

Your scruffy cheek.

The palm trees dance

Ever so slightly,

The bell from the old mission

Sounds twelve times,

You hold that moment.

The rhythm of the waves,

Pulse of tides and

Steady rush of arms as

You gather momentum,

Join the flow,

Again and again.

Free and free and free.

Tethered to nothing but

The slow wait,

The first set.