Breathing Trouble

here, where I live, we miss the ocean sometimes.

oh, it’s out there sure enough.

i can see it on clear days–

like today.

the beauty of the blinding white arc of it–

just beyond the dry hills.

 

but, we can’t smell it.

or hear it.

or let it beat us down into the sand, tumbled and breathless!

 

however,

in the evening,

the dry desert wind makes love to the palm trees here.

(and She rolls with the sage and manzanita too,

but they don’t fit this poem as yet.)

 

“oh!”, they moan together.

“yes!”, they shout, so grateful!

 

…it’s a little embarrassing–

…though still, i eavesdrop,…

…i’m interested.

 

but, i’m having trouble breathing tonight.

or, rather, i notice that whatever is breathing me,…

seems to be losing interest…

 

in my personal arc.

~ by Rusty Jones on January 29, 2012.