Erik van Mechelen

March 7, 2021

Where the wild winds are

Rugged northside beaches,
Cliffs to watch kites dance
Lifting their catch,
Mere mortals 
Trapped in time
But defying it 
By accepting a humble approach
To wind, water, wave.

We lick our salty lips
And rub salt between our hands (bought from inland ranch)
We ask the snorkelers braving strong rip tides what they saw--trigger fish, unicorn, rainbow:
The locals spin tales like the 
Gushing of the water on volcanic rocks
Wonder swirls inward,
And we wonder why we worry 
Of what to do next
Not simply of what to do
Nor of what we are doing
Breathing, smiling, laughing,
These are as grounded, fluid
Yet firm, natural as the flux 
And folding of each swell 
Over its brothers
And cousins.

We have been here before,
This place (weave, spiral, sprinkle on the windshield),
It is therefore familiar,