A Bad Poem For The Solstice
Maybe a better one will come tomorrow
On the Solstice I drink one non-alcoholic beer which I never do because just the taste makes me woozy. The smell of barley bending me back to a stained wooden floor and what it was like to dance for the first time, a hand sliding around my waist, pulling me in. It is the most wonderful thing two bodies can do. The smell of fresh cut grass, and the blackberries beginning to ripen. The neighbor’s lilies filling the night air with their scent, coming up from the beach. The passage quiet. Almost still, looking at it, one forgets it is the ocean. That there are orcas. That the channel runs deep. On the Solstice I was beautiful for a moment. Thinking I catch a sight of you in front of the ice cream parlor and I am turned into water. How can so much time have passed? (I think.) And how glad I am to have this time. Moving into middle age is not for the faint of heart, I think, and I am so glad to be a woman.
