Each day she reinvents herself
at the sea's edge
as if, on the virgin shoreline,
she could inscribe how wild geese
show her the tips of wind
in their wings...
Each morning she re-shapes
her soul from the tides
where kelp splays out
like veins and arteries
of yellow-brown tubing,
rubbery, alive,
and pulsing with seawater
and living cells.
Stepping from the shell,
she goes in search of seahorses
tethered to flat ribbons
of green cellophane
and watches, amazed,
the promenade
of brackish sea grass
growing spikes,
reinventing bubbles,
shining.
Anne Wilson
2003
© copyright 2003 Anne Wilson. No part of this website, pages 1, 2 & 3 may not be copied or used without permission from Anne Wilson.
