Solstice
Water shapes earth
As age shapes man.
Now advancing,
Now retreating.
Waves disintegrate layers
Smoothing here,
Serrating there, as the superficial shears away.
French-Atlantic cliffs
Like a wrinkled uncle, stern in humor,
Face west.
I walk the crevices of his face,
Gleaning what treasures I can.
Tiny lives dwell in his shadow,
Shell-encased and crabby.
Retreating from his saline sarcasm
Nieces, nephews, and sisters-in-law
Scurry along,
Lingering to converse only on his sunny days.
Mosses carpet his chin.
Grasses wave feathery, askew on his head.
His breath-scent sputters on the salty breeze:
Fermented fish and seaweed
His beer and chew.
Tides slosh and gurgle
In cave networks below,
Digestion of the one-too-many
That was just enough.
Windowed chalets rest on his nose,
Corrective spectacles clarifying
What he would rather not see.
But as long as he can see, he looks.
Far away Sun sets on the year’s longest day,
And fragile water meets earth
As infinity meets age.
He looks:
Waves all the time
Deadening,
Deafening,
Enveloping
The tenderness of his years.
He knows impulsive water
Will soon return him to dust.
But as long as he can see, he looks.
With each breaker he numbers his days.
With each day he sees Sun triumphant.
He would gladly lose all sight but light.
But as long as he can see, he looks,
And as long as he looks, he sees
Breakers washing him
Clear to eternity.
