By James Brown
You yearn so much
you could be a yacht.
Your mind has already
set sail. It takes a few days
to arrive
at island pace,
but soon you are barefoot
on the sand,
the slim waves testing
your feet
like health professionals.
You toe shells, sea glass, and odd things
that have drifted for years
and finally
washed up here.
You drop your towel
and step out of
your togs, ungainly,
first
your right foot, then
the other
stepping down
the sand
to stand
in the water.
There is no discernible
difference
in temperature.
You breaststroke in
the lazy blue.
A guy passing in a rowboat
says, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
And it is. Your body
afloat in salt
as if cured.
Source: Poetry (February 2018)
Poet Bio
More Poems about Living
Spring Snow
A spring snow coincides with plum blossoms.
In a month, you will forget, then remember
when nine ravens perched in the elm sway in wind.
I will remember when I brake to a stop,
and a hubcap rolls through the intersection.
An angry man grinds...
At the Equinox
The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,
and,...
More Poems about Nature
Listening in Deep Space
We've always been out looking for answers,
telling stories about ourselves,
searching for connection, choosing
to send out Stravinsky and whale song,
which, in translation, might very well be
our undoing instead of a welcome.
We launch satellites, probes, telescopes
unfolding like origami, navigating
geomagnetic storms, major disruptions.
Rovers...
At the Equinox
The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,
and,...