Friday, May 29, 2009

A Tiny Tea-Party

Mexie and Bridie
by Gwendolyn Brooks

A tiny tea-party
Is happening today.
Pink cakes, and nuts and bon-bons on
A tiny, shiny tray.
It’s out within the weather,
Beneath the clouds and sun.
And pausing ants have peeked upon,
As birds and God have done.
Mexie’s in her white dress,
and Bridie’s in her brown.
There are no finer Ladies
Tea-ing in the town.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Song of the Sea

Lately there is a longing in my heart, in my bones, in my skin. I want the blue sky, and the wind, and the glittering expanse of the ocean. Once I lived on it, in a little boat on the Puget Sound that smelled of must and teak oil and Simple Green. I spent almost five years there, clambering over the decks, feeding the ducks, and geese and seagulls, sitting on the pier and dangling my legs in the water. My family moved away when I was eleven, and I haven't really thought about it since. But the last month I've been missing the water so much it's hard to describe.

I miss the wind-chime sound of the ropes hitting the masts, the soft crash of the waves beyond the breaker, the way the sun winked little diamonds on the water. I miss seeing darting schools of fish through the cloudy water, or glimpsing a cluster of seals, nothing but sleek grey heads in the distance.

I miss being underwater, the feel of it splashing on my skin, the way it made my hair float up in a cloud of softness. I miss the droplets that stuck to my eyelashes, and how the salt would stay on my clothes long after the water had dried.

I miss the ships passing through the harbor, each one with a name, and cargo and a history completely it's own. I miss the bright sails of the boats on summer day's, and the flags in the wind.

I miss collecting shells and stones along the rocky beaches, and trips out on the dinghy, trailing my fingers in the water, the sun beating down on me until my cheeks were pink and my knuckles dirty-brown. I miss the the seagulls crying, and the smell of salt and mold, watching the sunset splinter across the water and falling asleep to the gentle rocking of the waves.

I miss the sea.