Montana Wolf

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Thieves of the Night

Full moon set and espresso. A candle, flame whipped by the gentle breeze, not enough to light my journal. The mind is given to simple questions. I wonder when a hummer will zip by my head on the way to his first sip of nectar? How many shells ride each wave on its way to the beach? I collect a few shells everyday. My heart's lust of the day is a sorta-round, paper thin 'potato chip'. Translucent wonders, they force a slow down on my beach walk; just the right angle of light to reveal their delicate repose. Jingle shells. When gathered together they tinkle and call forth fairies.

I am also drawn to pick up half-dollar-sized, thick grayish sea-carved scallop shells that look like they belong next to my gastrolith on my altar...the dinosaur gizzard stone. 

The moon deepens into yellow as she lowers herself upon the sea. La Luna casts shadows of want across the sand. Spiky palm fronds. My body in the folding chair. A lone beach walker silhouette. Myriad roosters crow from afar but the loudest sound is the incoming tide. The lips of waves kiss moonlight moments before they uncurl and give themselves to shore.

This, my first full moon on the shore of Bahia de Kino. Three weeks here. Ebony pilot whales swim the coastline sending thrill through my heart. I have seen my first Brant (goose) and walked miles of lonesome beach. I have been sandblasted by ferocious winds and had my good paring knife stolen by an arm that reached through my kitchen window in the night, knocking over the coffee grinder...which in the scheme of things, is MUCH more important.

I reckon life by words written and scenes witnessed. Thieves are many; not all bad.

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