Chosen Landscape
Sometimes the sea plays its green piano
In the 4/4 time
Of the blues.
Sometimes it plays nocturnes—
The moon knows
Exactly how to glimmer on.
The way the sea hammers
The keys, tonight,
If I could take my sister’s hand
I’d lead her into the breaking
Waves so we could become the keys
The sea plays.
So we could feel a hundred fingers
Strum along our eyes.
And if, when the refrain came,
My sister asked,
Have I heard this song before?
Would I tell her
It’s the song our mother sang
As she spread your ashes on the bluff?
The terns riding slow thermals above us.
Or would I duck beneath the surface,
Wrap myself in ringing water,
As if it were the worn blanket
She pressed around me
Before turning out the lights.
Leaving me to dreams of white birds
Hunting in gray water.
Photo of moon and sea courtesy Shutterstock.