Archive
01/01/11 - (2)
Halos
This first dawning day of the century's eleventh year Is gloriously conspicuous, for its Pacific water spirits. Though it's inordinately brisk, this low-forties morning, We choose to breakfast on the resort's outdoor porch, Under a trinity of floor-lamp-like gas heaters.
An hour later, we find ourselves barefoot, Strolling Laguna Beach's extremely-low-tide shore, Which is still littered with last week's rainstorm debris. We can see sea anemones, sea urchins, green seaweed, And giant starfish clinging to clam-crowded rocks.
The ocean barely threatens to get our feet wet. Precipitous cliffs lift multimillion-dollar houses to the sky. To us Midwesterners, this place is delicious. We imbibe its clean, crisp air, in our nostrils; Progressively, its bracing, saline taste whets our appetites,
And we eventually leave off our traipsing's explorations, Drive to a Dana Point Harbor café, for soup, paninis, berries, Before taking an invigorating two-mile power walk, Finishing in time to witness the sun slipping into the horizon, Filling late afternoon with a hue crimson as autumn sumac.
Soon, nothing's left of this immaculate day's radiant light, Nothing except our love's glowing halos, Leading us back over the first year of our time, Asking us to gather beneath them, that they might guide us, As we edge ever closer and closer to ourselves.
01/01/11 - (2)
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