the summer solstice has passed now, long gone in fact, and the days are still getting shorter
but as you continue to live life full throttle, you are aging in reverse, gaining youth
making each second count.
as the summer passed you found yourself shrugging weddings and BBQs and instead finding yourself sleeping in cow pastures, on beaches,
or in the back of the ancient Toyota wagon, driftwood fire smoke in your hair.
[one night you find yourself crouching naked by the rocks
nibbling at the green sea weed like a gull
sucking juice out of raw mussels
drifting away on a trans-pacific current before awaking]
the newest board in your quiver is already scuffed and dinged from hard livin'
countless hours of surfing leashless, the board getting away from you
crashing through sea foam and sand dollars and crab shells,
communing with all of the elements of the sea.
you follow suit, communing too, riding sea and sand upon your breast
these are your sacraments: the sun, the salt, the air
the deafening sound of waves heard from under the water
messenger from many miles
then arriving at the shore, you join your board, wavelets lapping at her hips
she is bearing new scars, sand taking the sheen out of her gloss coat, chinks in the armour,
a salty baptism that does not end
together you march back from whence you came...
hearing the whisper of mermaids
and the songs of sirens, forever calling you home.