Written over many years, this piece came back to me this morning. I thought that I wanted to run but it turned out that I needed to write.
Love Poem #38
Up here on the north coast there are many days when all there is to see is distance and rain.
It’s hard to know why it began or how it should have played out. Why it ended the way it did. After a few months there was nothing left.
Before I left the island the last time I walked on our favorite beach. I remembered that someone once said they were here to make some preliminary arrangements for the apocalypse.
Maybe they watched the sunset fires light up the rain or tracked the eagles soaring on ancient thermals. Maybe they came in time for the late afternoon calm and skipped rounded grey blue stones, counting the bounces out loud, remembering simpler times. My guess is that they did all of these things and then went back to from where they came, lighter, maybe sad, finally ready to move on.
The rocks revealed traces of our dreams.
Photos are © Michael Lebowitz – All Rights Reserved