Wind

The wind is screaming,
and I'm hearing Kem’s “Say”.
Loving his sultry,
It takes me back to a day
we sat at ocean shores.
Remember?
The whales were traveling
the entrance from Grays Harbor.
It was mid April,
spring time sand between our toes,
we danced that night
around a fire.
I was drunk on gin.
They are right.
It made me sin.
We smoked heat.
I was sure I loved;
mixed up infatuation.
It was worth the ride.
The next day we flew kites.
I was out of breath,
running along the water line
to make it glide,
and we giggled.
I was free.

I hear the sounds
of the bells that I have hung
from the balcony eave
sweetly saying my name,
or at least I imagine.
This peace is
overwhelmingly beautiful.
I am welcomed within myself,
no regrets,
only memories for the bookshelves
lain dusted over the years.
Wispy strands of bangs
blow over my eyebrows
as I turn to see myself
smiling at my reflection.

I feel appreciative.
I am floating on these tones
of unspoken never mind.
I am back again,
and I am fierce;
wise in my years.
We fed the seals in that spring.
Their sad faces made me tear.
I took pictures that were black
except the shining hollow
of their pleading eyes.
I have seal eyes
that beg angst and romantic wallow.
This is precious
as the silky deep purple iris
that sits solitary in a vase
on my kitchen table
stolen from The Colony
where I went to sit a friend.

The wind is screaming.
I am not.

~ws~