a coastal breeze joins mountain
ash and alder
leaves, chattering.
cool air in the August sigh
of this rain forest’d cabin.
my shoulders squeeze
my neck as i perch
on the shattered edge of blank page
shoreline. an eagle, not yet bald,
watches the chuckling ocean
water from a tidal island vantage.
i wonder if the fish
it seeks appear any closer
from water’s edge, or
if its eponymous vision is best
served by the distance
of flight? and if i had access
to different eyes,
would this cabin’s texture be
that of abandonment, or
serene hum of solitude? this town
is not new to me, i feel
threadbare and dingy
with my colloquial tongue. but
with different ears
might the salt of this town shine
with exotic accent? even
Jesus became a bore
to those habituated to his miracles. even
the mountain peak loses
its soaring soul when viewed by eyes
no longer dazzled by the miracle
of sight. a woman i love
has left me, now
my every move, a gesture
of supplication. i would think this
pain might be less
haunting, given its plain-spoken ubiquity.
maybe miracles are only miraculous
when they surprise us.
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