But the rain
Didn’t come
Just as well
She thought
Letting the surf
Wash high up
Her pretty
Yellow
Boots
Then wonder why why why?
Can’t we find a way
To share our world today
But the years of consciousness
I could count
In just an afternoon
And my own years
Rattled off in seconds
In the vast pre-history
Of consciousness
This beauty unremarked
But do my remarks
Or those of others
Make the beauty so?
Hands pocketed
Shoulders hunched
Voices hushed
They’re a beautiful sight
These denizens of stormy weather
There’s a strength
In their solemn wonder
Here where nature runs her course
Indifferent to the human presence
While the humans revel quietly
In hers
While I am but a moment’s reflection
An existential comma
In an expanse which cares not
That I think
Or that I think that I am
Not that I care
What the expanse thinks
Though I am glad that it is
In the form
Of a bright yellow slicker
With matching wellies
Animated
By a girlish delight
In the roiling sea
So am I reminded
A threat may seem remote
Or weak in its intention
But a threat it is
Toxic in its notion
I do well to heed an atmosphere in tension
Pix to Words 