together we row across the inlet.
pushing free
from the brown sand
by the hotel.
our paddles strike softly against
the green
waters
of the atlantic.
pulling us out and towards
an island,
not far off,
reachable for the hour we've been
given.
the gulls fly close and loud
to where we row.
there are fish in the air,
silver stripes arched above
the water.
the plaid backed shells of turtles
dipping heads
as we approach.
so much of life is missed,
so much is ignored.
so many beautiful things are
dismissed,
so often we're too busy with
our rowing, digging
harder with our oars.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment