Alone on a porch fifteen feet from the ocean. 
the porch connected to a small cabin, 
the small cabin on an island 
in an ocean bay. 
Across the bay, a few hundred yards to opposite shore, 
a ripple of muscled mountains heave 
in rolling devotion to sky’s infinite sigh. 
This is a land of glacier and volcano, 
raw materials for a planet in labor. 
You are on a porch and think yourself alone. 

Do you not feel the wind,
taste the brine of sea on it? 
Do you not feel yourself wildly companioned?

There is a volcano behind you, the bay a remnant of glacier.
You sit solitarily yet suffused
with your quietly inclusive community. 
The tide is coming in, the wind is all around you. 

This is not a poem but rather manual labor. 
You are not alone but rather raw material. 

With the startling newness 
of every impossible moment, 
you ceaselessly become.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: