Calloused, brown bare feet
brush the weatherworn softness of the dock.
Years of storm and sun
have velvetized this manmade trail of wood.
Sitting, shoes beside me,
I skim the tips of my toes
over the cold, glass clearness of the water.
A warm breeze carries me gently from my
dreamless day …
Now, here I sit,
dangling my feet over the edge,
the feathery breeze
whispers through my toes
and tickles the backs of my knees.
A white bird flew past,
brushing the tips of its wings across my cheek.
That was a memory,
sparked by the high, crystal blueness of the sky.
Its rays burn fiercely,
cooling on the long journey from heaven to earth.
The warmth of my sun-drenched face
has been given the essence
of summertimes long since past and nonexistent.