They spoke across a divide
Wide as eternity
Two dim lights
On distant shores
Obscured by the haze
Of time
But for their light
They’d have lost each other
Utterly
Such is the nature of binaries
Each caught in the gravity
Of the other
Their light grew
As they consumed time
With memories
And old promises
Spoken and unspoken
Still to be kept
The haze dispersed
The divide reduced
To a vision
A touch
An embrace
My guide drew silent
I entered the fog alone
Still I found the light
Not the prettiest lighthouse
Hard angles
Straight lines
Vast planes of white
So a fisheye
Rounds the square
Curves the lines
Arcs the sky
With fluffy bright clouds
Daylight waning hour
A beacon stands the ready
Darkness guiding light
The day-to-day
The ebb-and-flow
Cuts and layers
Excise and sediment
Build upon the I that was
Carve away the I that may
Remains the query
Who directs this knife and trowel
But the whim
Of tide and wave
Where the wide of the sea
Finds the flat of the land
There the tide flows
I pick my way
Down mobile shore
Where life is lived in many worlds
In the shallows and the depths
And too this realm of barely land
Where creatures slither and scatter
Between the pools and rivulets
So I wonder
At all the possibilities life created here
Including me
Sun hangs low on the horizon
Light subdued behind cloud bands
Tide well out
Yet still receding with haste
Earth’s exhaustion
Feels equal to my own
So I amble back to the trailer
With daylight’s final ember
Sizzling out
On the muddy shore
Long days on the road
Have eaten away
At my reserves
So the tide may remain out
For a few days yet
While my inner sun
Recharges
Under the wan light
Of stars in a new moon sky
9:00AM, Mutton Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada
I think the last sunset I saw on a horizon not entirely occluded by clouds (or under assault by squadrons of mosquitoes), was in St. John, a couple of weeks ago. Here, in Mutton Cove, Nova Scotia, it was a luxury to photograph the sunset, then sit outside comfortably for a meal. Even better, and for the first time on this trip, I sat outside to compose a blog post (yesterday’s Serpentine).
This morning, the day broke cloudy, but the sun soon made its appearance through scattered broken clouds, while a light onshore breeze has kept all the biting insects at bay. So after some breakfast and conversation with Vincent, who shared the parking lot with me last night, I find myself lingering, just a little longer than I’d intended, to enjoy the peace of the morning and watch some locals launch their small boat into the bay as the tide comes.
The tide rises so quickly here at this far end of Nova Scotia’s Bay of Fundy, (I’m watching it inch its way up the beach, little steps with every wavelet) you don’t bother backing the boat all the way into the water. Rather, just gently lower it onto the shore ahead of the advancing sea. You’ll have about enough time to bring your tow rig and trailer back above the tide, then walk back to the boat and clamber in before the ocean rises enough to lift you off the bottom.
They’ve paddled a little further offshore, to deeper water, and started their engine. Now heading off to some hopefully lucky fishing spot in the bay. And I think, too, I’ve lingered long enough. Pack up and off to Halifax. Perhaps a cycle along the way.
Pix to Words 