1 summer has gone still she lies golden in the sand catching the last rays happy sister to the sun while I truckle away shrinking into shadow across the horizons of my fevered dreaming cavorting dolphins—grinning as they do framed in sea spray and pink in early light join the dance I crawl like a wad of old pinky black sidewalk gum out from where I have been hiding flattened against the insides of the horns of a beaten up old conch shell warmed by the sun and cooled by the sea and look around peering through the predawn mist an army of ghosts float across the lake slow the mind down match words to vision arrange them in sync with the rhythm of the heart I fold my hands to silence them the bone ends of my fingers excuses whisper something forgiving and begin the dance no wild corybantic tarantella no lean abiding tango no anarchic clatter nothing sentimental just the swaying of the pines to the call and answer of the wind 2 flat-footed jays like ballet dancers in the wings chase my tufted titmice who circle around them and bounce smartly up to the feeder leaves leave a planet of shadows and patterns on other leaves where ants romance and cavort just for the briefest of moments a breath and a sigh really I join them not a bad life this a heron flies through the steadily lifting mist leaving the memory of its shape against the slate colored lake The day goes on without trying and night begins with the moon I fall asleep to the hooting of owls Nathan leaves for school but first I hear the clink of his spoon against the sides of the blue bowl his huge feet bounding across the deck and crunching gravel to the road I carry my coffee to my table facing the lake arrange my brushes in descending order next to the jar of clean water the small palette on the right and the larger on the left at my elbow and begin Great Pond, Eastham, MA, 2014
Hiding Out