Poetry Beaches Children Life

It took 42 years
for my poetry to come
like magma
deep in my rocky crust
dormant and still
present but unknown

then came the cracks
above sandcastled feet
and the words seeped out
with feeling
with purpose
a wellspring
of brightly lit
summer thoughts
wind hushed
beach words

the beach
my metaphor
shadows of my coastal soul
the sand
the surf
wind and sun
has always been my church
my solitude
my socialization
my peace and my pain

I was a child there
I watch my children there
January with salt crusted snow
March when melting carves still frozen sand
the thrill and pain of June waters

and August, mellow August
August with the counted days
easy warmth on sleepy eyes
thunder clouded evenings

I’ll fade to September nights
and liquid cool air
the dunes laughing with the wind
beach creatures
off to sleep
or to fly away
wings pushing towards a different world

Soon the grass will sing
with November winds
and the children and dogs
will dig and run
while the ocean churns
fierce wild and alone

I want to slip my fingers
through a poets web
and pull a trawler catch
into myself
of the beach
my children
and life

©2006 C. L. B. Callender