{26 October 2017}

At the beach today, we bury two animals.

One, a sea slug, we think, or a kind of sea cucumber.
We gather arounds its body resting in a wet sand grave.
We marvel at its anatomy, turning it over and prodding it
Gently with a piece of driftwood.
As we cover it with sand, seaweed, and small rocks,
We sing a song of blessing:

I behold you beautiful one,
I behold you child of the earth and sun,
Let our love wash over you,
Let our love wash over you.

Two, along the bottom of the cliffs facing the ocean, a small possum.
Nestled in the cracks of the soft sandstone,
He looks like he died in the middle of a dream,
His long, thin snout in the air, still smelling the salty air,
I imagine, — when do the cells stop processing information?
We cover him in stones, and I sing the
Song silently over his body.

I behold you beautiful one,
I behold you child of the earth and sun,
Let my love wash over you,
Let my love wash over you.

Later, we gather shells and seaweed and rocks and sea glass
And crab legs and drift wood
Along the edge of the water,
Ocean gifts running here and there in the tide.
We display them on the sand,
A ‘touch-see-and-feel’ museum.

Seaweed dries in tangled piles on the beach.
As we approach, small flies burst into the air,
Our presence disrupting their feeding attention.
They live off the dying, drying seaweed.
We carry bunches in our hands back to the driftwood fort,
Decorating the entrance.

We play with the sea like a long-lost sister.
Jumping and crashing our bodies into the waves,
The water carries us out and back in.
The gifts, shells and driftwood,
Who knows how long she has carried them.

The sun is shining today.
What more could we wish for?

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{9 October 2017}

Today, two men in the coffee shop shared a poem
written in big enough font so they could both read it.

Today, a bird saw me coming on the bike lane,
hopped out of the way, and chirped at me as I passed,
a greeting, I think.

Today, a little girl smiled at me across the counter
with a smile almost as wide as her face.

Today, a piece of metal from my bike
reflected a small rainbow on the path.

Today, I ate food born of the earth’s
dark, ancient soil.

Today, I spoke to someone across the Atlantic and
their face was clear as crystal as they told me about their life far away.

Today, the blue windy sky danced on my skin,
and by ‘danced’ I mean ‘opened my eyes.’

Today, a woman in the store told me she loved
to hear us laugh.

Today, two little boys laughed loud at all my dumb jokes
and all their own silly noises.

Tell me about your day.
Was it a miracle like mine?