Gulf Shores (9 November 2010)

in the morning,

we walk the beach in silence,

hand in hand,

bathed in sunlight,

surrounded by a blue, cloudless sky,

waves lapping rhythmically,

hypnotically,

echoing the heartbeat of life;

this must be heaven;

images and words,

flow like electric current;

“I should have brought something

to write with,” I tell her,

“I’ve written an entire poem

in my head, but I’ll never

remember it;”

I’ve lost so many that way,

slipping through my fingers

like liquid glass;

gone forever;

we watch a pod of dolphins,

fishing just off shore,

slowly breaking the surface,

bobbing and weaving,

the way it has been

for thousands of years,

the talk on the news is about

oil, economic crises and recovery,

but the dolphins don’t seem to care;

and neither do I.

.

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