Smir
The tiniest of raindrops speckle my skin and lace my hair. Cooling. Soothing. Calling me into stillness. Almost like being dressed in the chill embrace of a cloud stooped low enough to kiss the breakwater. Out here, today, even the seabirds don’t speak. They hold their peace. A trio of terns skim the waves in silence… I watch them make for home, their sharp-edged wings slicing through the smir. They know where they’re going. They know where home is. It is here. It is here. It is here.
2 Comments
bruce barone
These are beautiful!!!
Suddenly Jamie
Lovely, ethereal images, Amy. They have a look that is so “you.”
Thank you for sharing.