The smell of creosote reminds me of the place I live,

but the salt air here reminds me of home.

I see the way people change when they look.

Really look.

The woman who sholdered me on the bus is staring out at the water in awe,

young couples  rest  in each other's arms and forget what they were fighting about.

There's energy in those waves.

It's overcast, but way out to sea i can make out b r e a k s in the clouds,

            loose stitches in a patchwork quilt.

The sun is just barely kissing the tops of the navy rollers,

breaking them apart into millions of tiny droplets,

each one individual and beautiful and shining.

They t u m b l e  in to meet the feet of a toddler,

a little girl about to see the ocean for the first time.

She dances away and laughs, a tinkling sound like...

                 S      E       P      N

Seagulls       W      E      I        G  the sky,

foam gathering in the give-and-take of the tide,

palms bending in the breeze.

I could learn so much here.

Balance, peace, constance

The greatest teacher is here, rising and falling,

 

a planet's breath.

 

The thought of the desert doesn't come to mind. 

not of drought, nor heat, nor cactus,

only the 

BEAUTY OF THE PRESENT.

the thankfullness for this moment, 

and the somber anticipation of the trip back to my house,

leaving my home

behind.