Windy Harbour, looking westward along the south coast.
Slowly fast we went
and sequestered time,
and left the rush of real life,
where devices twitter perched on data trees,
and slamming doors and ring tones
signal anxious rush to drudge.
We put a down-payment on us,
and floated to the sea,
to taste the salt in the air,
to feel the sand between our toes,
to smell the wattle and friends,
make garlands of seaweed,
and listen to the wisdom of birds,
and wonder, is water the same
yesterday, today and tomorrow?
It was only a day,
but it felt like more,
and I feel younger now,
O to drown in that sea.
©Paul Vincent Cannon