The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.
-John 3:8
lean over the sea cliff
stare down at the water
Indian paintbrush
pokes through dead grass
neon highlighters
in a sea of khaki
a solitary piece of driftwood
bobs restlessly in the channel
the wind pushes it north
inching towards Galiano Island
the sun is diffused in light clouds
comes in soft through smudged windows
young couple looks out at Salt Spring Island
her hand rests on the inside of his knee
like it belongs there
the diamond glints
her face is lit up
by window light
reflecting off
his bald head
the wind is not constant
changes direction
stops altogether
sometimes for days on end
it's hard to tell
where the log will end up
or how long it will take
to get there.
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1 comment:
this is solid.
only advice I'd give is to make the language even more spare-- cut some "is" "the" "likes."
the sparsity will heighten the mood you're going for.
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