Bloom

Bloom

You may leave but it will never leave you,
some body of water.  Where the winds are
a second skin that smell of smoky campfires
and salted fish, clean and inviting.  Where fish
are practical, whales are cousins, and boats are
objects of beauty to be admired like architecture.
If the winds had colors, they’d be fat ribbons that
let loose or tie depending on the mood of the water,
which is so deep it is as blurred as the sky.  But the
mountains envelop this water, and cradle any sun
that pigments their curvy sides like new mothers.  This
is where your children sing and run naked in their boots,
their eyes shining and cheeks lacing pink. You run too,
the fish run, fireweed pink as roe bloom, bloom as you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s