Curl of the beach,
curl of the bay,
straight line of curling waves,
low tide, the luring smell of sea,
the counter-swirl of clouds

We sit in our cove of freedom,
togetherness, this time of morning —
ideas performing like kingfishers,
jokes like crows,
punctuate the smooth spread
of the light we are offered,
the wide expanse of reflection

We could make a life
out of moments like this,
memories of doing free flight,
whole-bodied knowing,
saturation of understanding
washing us to the cusp of communion

Heat rises from the dry sand
as we walk back,
trees stand as keepers
of the temple of deep shade,
bestowing their blessing upon us
as we depart.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2016