Sunday, August 30, 2015

Notation

The mist that slips away 
like the skin of an overripe peach
as the sun reaches 
over the ridge 
and lays hold of the beach;
the laboring cry of the gulls 
pumping daylight up from the sea;
each footstep filled with luminous water, leaving behind 
a wandering trail of notes on the staff lines of the tide.

2 comments:

Dale said...

For Oliver Sacks, who left us today.

rbarenblat said...

Beautiful.