Scottsdale

By: | Post date: October 28, 2009 | Comments: 1 Comment
Posted in categories: Countries
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A curious thing; to yield
one’s purse, and then one’s nerve
endings, both now still chilled
next day; adrift, unsafe,

tentative. Curious, no?
that I can still get tipsy
on brine and Veuve Clicquot,
though little passed my lips.

A sea, of salt and swells,
of stark and fearsome shores,
whose waves have deigned to stall,
whose deeps I will not hear.

A sea, its code unknown,
as mine to hers. I traced
its surface, and left home.
Godspeed its winsome face,

through change of seasons: fall,
winter, spring, summer, Autumn.
The sea restores it whole.
Its beauty arches, awesome.

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