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I love it when the beach chairs match the sea.
Little Apple Bay, Tortola, British Virgin Islands.
Quote of the day: “Every living thing requires love to survive for without it, we die.” — Sanjo Jendayi
Daily gratitudes:
The slimmest crescent of moon
The scent of gardenias
The cheese girl at Whole Foods
My cow robe
Aspen eyes
Thunder Cat
Today’s guest poet – Muriel Stuart
The Wood and The Shore
The low bay melts into a ring of silver,
And slips it on the shore’s reluctant finger
Though in an hour the tide will turn, will tremble,
Forsaking her because the moon persuades him.
But the black wood that leans and sighs above her
No tide can turn, no moon can slave nor summon.
Then comes the dark: on sleepy, shell-strewn beaches,
O’er long pale leagues of sand and cold, clear water
She hears the tide go out towards the moonlight.
The wood still leans… weeping she turns to seek him,
And his black hair all night is on her bosom.
