The Mill Pond Musings: August 2013

Friday, August 30, 2013

The Sea

The sea, the sea, the storm swept sea

It controls my heart and calls to me

It matches my mood on this bleak, sour, day

I hope for change, nay more, I pray

Many a storm has swept over my soul

Taking away, exacting a toll

Yet leaving me stronger for none can take

My mind, my soul, nor my sprit break

Each passing storm, each raging sea

Strengthens my heart, building within me

A resilience that counts for so much more

Than all the polished stones on a ragged shore

　
　

Thursday, August 22, 2013

I am an Island

I am an island Rising
Standing
Vigilant
Above the sea
Of life

Storm washed
Eroded
Catching the floatsom
Of the crashing waves
My headlands crumble
Buttressing the beaches
And the reefs
Of my foundations

Through it all
My idealic peaks
Drape golden sunrise
And
Scarlet sunset
Round their shoulders

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Beautiful Hand

I went for a walk with my love today

Saw many a beautiful sight along the way

For the golden sunlight streamed upon the land

While masses of wildflowers were close at hand

Reds and orange, yellows and blue

Every conceivable color and hue

Feathery white clouds drifted across the sky

Ever changing shapes as they slid by

Nature’s finest was displayed before us

While songbirds sang a delightful chorus

Yet with all of the beauty in this wonderful land

The greatest of all was holding my hand.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Shared Plight

Three streaks of white flash

in the clear blue sky

Pursued by predator’s brown blur

Whether they save their lives

Or whether they merely try

As a question may sound obscure

Yet are we much more

Than a flash of light

Across the background of life

And do we not share

Those three bird’s plight

Balancing on the edge of a knife

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Another Dawn

Darkness
Overhead.
Winging
Windswept
Mist.

Dim
Edges.
Fade
Eastward
Night.

Foaming
Luminescence.
Traces
Landward’s
Shore.

Hissing
Surf.
Sings
Woeful
Eternity.

Sea
Lays.
Quick-
Silver
Smooth.

Pelicans
Strafe.
Curling
Foaming
Crests.

Dolphins
Cruise.
Below
Liquid
Sky.

Feet
Tread.
Virgin
Shifting.
Dunes

One
Soul.
Alone
Stands
Resolute.

Dreams
Yearningly.
Immersed
Completely
Living.

　

Friday, August 9, 2013

No Bridge

You are within arm’s reach

But I can’t touch you

The sound of my voice echoes in your ears

Yet you do not hear me

Long ago

a tiny crack began between us

Now

a chasm lies there

We saw the gorge’s width

and depth grow

But

we did nothing

The plans

and means were once here

for us

But no more

Gone are the planks,

the cable,

the supports

No bridge shall ever stand here.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

The Sound of Eternity

Eternity’s expanse has its own unique sound

Of joys forever lost and pain just found

Of tears dripping on the cheek at night

A soul’s struggle against hurt and fright

Eternity cries like a million tears

Drowning desire with ugly fears

Of the way that hopes and dreams are built

As things held dear most often wilt

Eternity moans like a cry in the dark

Dredging forth visions dramatically stark

That chase the mind though life until

The body’s heart grows forever still

Sunday, August 4, 2013

An August Beach Evening

Early August.

Early evening.

Setting sun.

I stand on Zmudowski Beach in Monterey County.

In my hands is a surf rod. I am transfixed by the colors and visual textures of the setting sun‘s effect on the world within my sight. The sun’s golden colored orb settles slowly into the waters in front of me. Clouds in bright reds and purples cast shimmering colors across the waves at my feet. Birds are either painted in glowing shades, or drawn in black ink silhouettes in the sky.

Flights of Brown Pelicans alternate northward skimming the breakers, and southward, high above the sands. Caspian Terns hover and dive just off shore. Three fly past in single file, each a small perch in its beak. Two dolphin cruise out on the far side of the breakers, while a sea otter floats and paddles within the rolling waters.

Looking left, and looking right, I can count exactly 13 people. Only 14 of us here. On this 5 miles of beach, in the center of Monterey Bay’s crescent, in the height of vacation time, only 14 people. All but two of us are fishing.

Quickly running the math in my head, and assuming that most of these fishermen come to the beach a couple times a week, means that fewer than 2500 people see this magnificent tableau each year.

I have lived just 5.7 miles from Zmudowski beach for almost 25 years, and this was only my third visit there. The fishing pole in my hand I had bought at a garage sale some 10 years earlier and this is the first time I have ever stood on the beach, casting into the surf.

　
　

Jade Cove is a small scarf of headland where the Pacific ocean crashes full force into the land just south of the Big Sur area in central California. There, in the tumbling, crumbling, grinding tailing pile that is the “beach” jade can be found. Jade, in green, and pink, and purple. Jade. One of the most beguiling of the rocks that are formed in the superheated interior of this planet.

And free for the taking.

The hike down to the beach is short, the waves pound in and hiss up through the skree piled up as a beach. Gulls and terns, pelicans, and cormorants cruise the winds. Colors and textures of rocks and dirt, plants and sky blend together. Tiny fingerling fish dart back and forth among the stars and jellies trapped in small pools awaiting the returning tides. The beauty in this cove is remarkable.

I have known of Jade Cove for most of the 25 years I have lived in the Monterey area, and two months ago was the only trip I have ever made there. During the entire time I spent prowling and poking in and among the tide pools and searching the rock beach for jade, only two other people where there. Fewer than 1100 people a year.

　
　

Why?

Why is it that we human’s can so cut ourselves off from these wonders that surround us?

What makes the flickering light of the pretend world and lives of the pretend people on our televisions, our computer games, or in our books so seductive that we willingly sacrifice our lives for them?

Those unreal manifestations suck our very days into their inhuman existence. Leaving us to merely exist as well.

Why don’t we go outside, and live instead?

　
　

I for one, am resolved to do so.

I have gathered my outdoor equipment, my boots, my hat, my binoculars. I have sorted my fishing gear, my bow, my guns, my tent, and stove, and lantern. I am cleaning and adjusting my bike, and tuning the car.

I am making a list, of all the beautiful places that I know, and the places that I have heard of, and the places that I can find on maps, and on the internet.

I renounce the inside, sit at home, world.

I embrace life.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Richer

Sometime between ten and twenty-one,

As we make more trips around the sun,

We reject the joy that nature brings

To follow the bell technology rings.

Gone is the long and lazy day,

Gone the afternoon nap a’lay,

Tell me; where’s the joy of sun-kissed skin?

Tell me; how long it has simply been,

Since you’ve given yourself to the gentle breeze

Swirling among the shadows under the trees?

When last did you feel mud between your toes?

Or wonder where the setting sunlight goes

When last did you laugh and just how much

Joy did you take from a gentle touch?

It’s not you, but the world spinning round the sun

Why take the ride yet ignore the fun

Quit looking so close, quit bearing so hard

Unwind a bit, relax your guard

Step back, reassess the larger picture

When you do, I promise, you’ll be the richer

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Fate

Gazing through the window of my mind,

My eyes search for jewels to find

Within the boundaries of this world,

As slowly before me life's unfurled.

In the disease invested sewer of man

I seek the threads of a cohesive plan,

So as to be able to explain

The hurt, disappointment, lies, and pain.

Following each strand of precious stones,

I am distracted by the cries and moans

Of each and every soul who fell

Off life’s magnificent carrousel.

And though offered an assisting hand,

Some steadfastly refuse to stand,

Forever failing to struggle back on

Lying in the gutter waiting distant dawn.

Which can never come for those who wait

For the divine hand of an unknown fate,

To set the world right just for those

Who’s fate is exactly as they chose.

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