Across the narrow, sandy beach the Sandpiper wanders. I sit there by the rocks in the morning mist, watching her gather sticks so white and dry they looked like bones. Driven by strong winds, the water laps on the beach shore. The clouds grow blacker and scud dark and thick across the sky, slowly spreading from the horizon, infecting the whole sky, it’s silent ghosts and misty shrouds engulfing us. Sweet and mournful is her cry. She does not start as the wind grabs hold of my coat and shirttails and whips them about. She has a steady eye and does not loose sight of her goal—a nest to build before it is too late. The storm draws closer and still she works away. I stoke my driftwood fire. There is no shelter and if she does not move soon she will be swept away. The wind rages and the storm rushes towards the beach. We are here together, her and I.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Here is my most recent of commonplaces (oh, and my indomitable teacher gave it a "really good." hopefully you can see my smug smile):
Two and a half feet above the pool there is no motion, no sound. Multicolored flags flutter on the horizon. In the still water countless plastic wheels separate the competitors and frame the black line that leads straight ahead.
Crouching down, body bent in half, deliberately forcing the back leg to support thousands of twitching nerve fibers. Waiting. Balancing. One toe off the edge of the rough, cold block, both hands curl around the front grasping for stability. Both legs strain with the anticipation of sudden release. Ears tucked between powerful shoulders, eyes tightly shut, head filled with the refrain of Dynamite steadily pulsing. Chlorine, dry and acrid, burns in the mouth as it fills the lungs with sweltering air. Heart pounding. Muscles tense, almost to the verge of uncontrollable shaking. The pressure of every moment weights heavily and the thoughts, instructions, mental pictures--the training of years--flash by in an instant.
In a moment the buzzer will sound, a light will flash, and a timer will start. In a moment all the restrained energy will explode in a splash of speed. In a moment the race could be won and dreams realized...or, all could be lost.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"Sunrise, noon, sunset, midnight. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. January, May, September. Winter, spring, summer, autumn. Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas. These are the punctuation marks of time, and what a marvelous mercy that God divided light from darkness."