The Path of No Path

A close friend asked me to write something for them. This is the result. I rather like it. High Tide My feet see the line that separates the water from the soft sand  as I walk down the beach. Lingering yellow sunlight insists that I notice the horizon, but my thoughts are  elsewhere. Years ago walking this same beach we talked and laughed jumping over mounds of kelp. Cool water and sticky sand keep my feet directed helping me in my meandering. Water rises around my knees lunar cycles telling me high tide approaches shifting the sands beneath me.  Harvest Moon blending with 40 watt bug bulb and stars on the hotel balcony illuminate. Memories of times I cannot remember surface for but a moment only hinting at their mystery. Musky salt heavy breezes carry the laughter and footsteps of lovers walking beneath my room oblivious. Nearby a radio plays an  old Curtis Mayfield tune leaning back in my chair I prop my feet up on the rail. Does the Moon feel the passion of the ocean a