Full Circle

 

I was raised in the mountains

not softly nurtured and loved.
The escape route was layed
out and dreamed about.
When I was twenty and reached

Flat land, my life began…

the one that begins with him
and us and two babies
and still goes on forty years
later with love and joy and honor.

But the mountains called

sometimes late at night when
I felt safe in the scenery I had,
we got a house on the highest
mountain just for summers,
a get-a-way.  I sit on my perch
 

to infinity there, soak up the beauty,

no longer try to capture the spiritual
I just know it’s there and I wonder
at life and how we go full circle.

White

White shutters slat the restaurant windows
I peer through. Sun rays shiny white fall onto
women in white bikinis.  They  strut  tan bodies
that shimmer from the slather of  sun block.

Two paintings of Snowy Egrets hang on the wall.

a picture of beauty and repose that make me more so.
Snowy petunias thrive at the entrance to the left,
made more brilliant against the backdrop of sand dunes.

Lunch is served, sautéed tilapia with creamy cole slaw.

I fill myself with food and cool, clear water, sit and soak
In time and place before I give up my seat.
Pearlescent is my car that sparkles in the parking lot,
White speaks to me, clears my mind, takes me home.