DAY FORTY-FIVE OF THE DEEPWATER DISASTER

The day melts away …

I don’t notice

As one unhurried hour dissolves into the next

Morning

Mowing, laundry, chores

Once – while I hang sheets on the clothesline –

That suspicious smell makes me look up

Creosote – my senses quicken

I remember what lurks offshore.

Pockets of the malodor

invade on the summer breeze

-- a breeze meant to hold only laughter and innocent memories.

Afternoon

Errands, then tea with a friend –

A lazy, languid respite.

A late thunderstorm

Rides in on angry clouds

And bursts of wind threaten tornado.

Evening

Air washed fresh and sweet again,

Leaves and grass glisten in the sunset.

Droplets run down green fruit 

That hangs from the miracle tree.

The frogs next door arrange a date in loud excited tones.

They often meet at my place.

Night

Under a starry sky I swim

In the pool, clean and clear

the water slides over my skin like silk

Soothing, caressing

While words float through my head – graceful,

delicate, elusive  -- like butterflies daring to be captured.

I help a wayward frog out of my territory with the net.

As he hops away, I smile at his good fortune while

I mourn the pelicans and turtles that weren’t so lucky.