pine trees against
the blue-grey dusk.
The sound of rhythmic velcro
as my flip flops kiss
the damp dirt road.
Cool air brushes past my arms,
and the first flickering stars emerge
from behind the dark cloak of clouds,
that still retains the moon,
prolonging her enterance
into the magnificent night sky.
The lazy barking of a dog
gives way to the
quiet whisper of waves.
With the taste of salty humidity on my lips,
I inhale the scent of stillness,
after a sudden summer rain.
The Sea breathes gently in my ears
as the light surf strokes the rocky sand
in an ancient song that began before the invention of time.
It was not long ago that I mastered the art of scampering
across this rugged Maine shoreline,
first carefully testing each step
then hopping from rock to rough patch of sand
to slippery seaweed covered ledge.
It was here I first learned about beauty,
that the pulse of nature that surrounds us,
is the same that sustains us from within.
Today my feet skip and spring in graceful memory
of the rhythm I have danced so many times gone by.
Today I find new meaning in this timeless,
perpetually shaping coast.
Today I understand the wisdom
in the lessons learned here.
For it is honest and wise to be cautious before stepping,
But there will come a time we must trust in the dance,
and only in letting go do we learn to leap.