Monday, December 19, 2011


Dark grey water washed over me as I paddled, biting my head, stinging my teeth. Offshore winds carried smoke from neighborhood fireplaces to my nose, reminding me of warmer places.
 Birds hunted for fish and I for waves. 
The ocean meant to us both more than gold. 
Finally my icy, inflexible fingers could no longer paddle. 
As I walked up the beach I thought:
 I hope I live like this forever.

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