The thing is… they lied.
Winter is NOT coming.
The unending Glare and Heat of
Summer is coming.
And so we go in search of Winter.
Retreating from the relentless,
The raging Sea.
Into the forest, nestled among the trees.
Oh to hear birdsong again!
To hear the rustling of leaves falling,
The patter of rain caressing the forest.
To wake to that eerie silence,
Whispers that Night has
Blanketed the earth with snow.
To see moonlight shade into daylight.
Your Waves will always roil my soul.
I was born by your side.
The beat of your Waves gave
Rhythm to my Heart.
Perhaps that is why I must leave you.
You are Sacred Space.
I cannot bear your defilement.
What does the noise of Bike Week hold against your Grandeur!?
Why build houses-not-lived-in to your very shore?!
Why do we fill your sisters—Bay, Estuary, Wetlands—with dirt and rubble?
To build yet more houses-not-lived-in?!
Do we mean to try to fill The Abyss?
To try temper the terror of
Is this why we feed you our plastic refuse?
Demand that you swallow and digest
Until You have had Enough!
Conspire with Air and Sun.
Bring Endless Summer.
And for now, for me…
I will retreat to
Oh, I read you loud and clear here. I can feel it – but you can say it ! Your Fan.
Time to inhale the depth and beauty of old, deep woods, and to have a reason to use words like fecund. I’m truly happy for you! But I’ll miss that Chesapeake Bay crossing.
How lovely, Nadia. xoxo
your Hammerklavier! Well done! 👏👏👏
Beethoven surely spent time in Baltic Beach Towns when he wrote his.
Looking forward to your reprise as Woods sinks as deeply into your soul as Sea.
It’s good to read your words again! Rise, Sea, Indeed!