He saw change coming
Had to come
Life altering change
Had to be
He’d come to a cul de sac
Every step now
Just circled the perimeter
But what next?
What path led forward?
He had no idea
All he had
Was a little sparkle
Of hope
Enough for the confidence
To step out of the circle
The way life clung
To the cracks and crevices
Of the hard rock cliffs
Fascinated him
He imagined it
Like the bottom trawlers
That once dragged The Banks
For cod and haddock
Rather than nets, though
It was glaciers that scraped
The cliff face smooth
Erasing all signs of life
It took thousands of years
Of time and erosion
For life to eek out
This small foothold
His grandfather used to tell him
About throwing a bucket
Over the side
And cod would fill it up
When they closed the cod fishery
It was like another ice age
Swept across Newfoundland
Few fishers survived it
He imagined the ocean floor
Scraped clean by the trawlers
And wondered how long
Before the cod came back
“Too bad about the weather,” she says
I’m framing a photograph
Camera in hand though not to eye, just yet
“Yesterday was perfect
Bright and sunny
Not a cloud in the sky”
I like today just fine, I tell her
As a frame begins to form in my mind’s eye
“But it’s so dismal and grey!”
Blue skies at noon
Are a bright, empty smile
She looks at me, head tilted
It’s a sky without character, mood
The light falls straight down, casts no shadows
Still the look
It’s dull
“You prefer dour to dull?”
I do
“Perhaps that says more about you.”
I smile, and nod
Half because, perhaps, she’s right
And half because I’ve found the frame
Camera to eye … click
I show her the screen
“Oh! That’s beautiful!”
He woke
Later than intended
Sunlight streamed
Through the trailer window
Rising
He pulled his boots
Over his socks
And clambered out
From the cliff edge
He saw most boats
Were still in the harbour
“That’s good,” he thought
He rushed back into the trailer
Pulled his pants on over the boots
Grabbed the bag with his gear
Made sure the trailer was secure
In the truck
He hoped for the worst
For some other bloke
So there’d be an open spot on a boat
It wasn’t a hope
He liked to hope
But he needed the work
And someone else had to lose out
It was either that
Or over to the cafe
And then the pub
To nurse whatever drink was before him
There was barely enough money for that
But even less to make the trailer
A place he wanted to spend
Any more than a restless night in
Every now and again
Nature conspires with time
To create moments
Of utter perfection
While I am graced
With permission
Not only to witness
But record
Day’s end
Indigo encroaches
On amber and rose
Tomorrow encroaches
On today in my mind
Song of the sea
Caresses the shore
Soothes my soul
Sends me off to slumbers
Sun teases horizon
Gulls cry the morning’s alarm
Warm pastels ignite the clouds
Below wan blue skies
And I
Wakened from deep repose
Welcome another day
Of adventure in unfamiliar lands
Thoughts take root in my mind
Distractions laid upon the clear path
Undermine rhythm and pace
Obscure the way
Stop
Breathe
Let go the thoughts
Let go of thinking
Let go the desire for distraction
Breathe
Let in the clarity of The Way
Breathe
The true path revealed
Breathe
Step
Breathe
Step, step
I cannot think the path into being
I cannot follow what is not already there
I observe the middle
Where the light burns brightest
And the way is known
On the well-worn path
Trod by myriad feet
I observe the middle
Then choose another way
For the well-worn path
Holds few surprises
And rarely offers insights
Trapped
By choices
Inertia generated
Stop
Accept no legacy
From past choices
Reconnoiter
Reconsider
The trap releases
Choose
A new path
From the possibilities revealed
Pix to Words 