Tuesday, February 11, 2014
The first two rays of the island sun turned to drops at high tide
Those eyes handed down like mothers jewelry, two girls, papas smile
The transition between sea and soul, sand to feet, is incalculable
Spiritually heavy, the skies are likely to give way to rains enchantment at any time
"Oma, can we go jumping?
"Yes, but only for a awhile."
"Nonna, can we go swimming?"
"Si mija, but only for a little while."
The hours pass and sun bleached curls grow too fast, too complete
The island tree is not the root, but an anchor to be reeled in, reset
When the fish stop feeding and the sand has been raked into Mexican destiny
There will be other places that girls can fill times sand pail
Until then, the island soothes with unending breezes that whisper, home and heart
"Mama, can we have helado?'
"Si baby, maybe tomorrow."
"Papa, can we ride in the boat?"
"Si amor, maybe this afternoon."
The sea tells you about the past daily, you listen and hope for the best
You plant the seeds, and rake the sand and in due course
The island becomes the blood pumping through burgeoning hearts and minds
A soul mate for all time and a brother who will steer the skiff true and straight
New beginnings are sad until they become home and we find the key to life still fits the lock