Slivers

A cut in the sky, low to the horizon and rising slowly in a Springtime dusk...the fingernail moon slides upward and posts its wry smile in a evening that is ending.

A slight reveal against the black plane of space and night sky.  It is so different than the full moon, completely unrelated...a different emotional planet.

A sliver.  A hint of things to come, lightness to reveal.  Almost like a wink.  It rises over the shadow black limbs of trees, it is a gray glimpse.

In the morning it washes out completely, the dawn erasing it like a smudge leftover from the night before.

Slivers...like tiny shapes that get under your skin, bits of wood, the fingernail moon is piercing a slight etching in the sky.

In the waning of a light it is the only color I can see.  The only contrast that I can detect.

But it is so far away, it is barely there.  It is almost like a reminder.  A memory.

It is like a bit of wood, piercing me, reminding me.

A memory.

Stay

The sound stayed hypnotic...the rhythm of beach waves, the spray of surf...in the evening ending in a nautical twilight the ocean became her heartbeat...it was a roar inside of her, a sensation she felt as the afternoon ended and the people plucked up their blankets and headed back into homes and hotels, routines and norms.

She stayed.

She loved the water...loved the wind and its scented breath.  She measured in moments, tiny spoon-filled portions that were different.  She stopped thinking for a bit...let the earth consume her. She found a peace that she rarely ever felt...her mind clogged with the grind of work, sand in gears of stress and deadlines.

In the moments by the water she felt a rupture, an unleashing...letting go.  So she stayed.

She took a short tip up the shoreline, letting the waves collect at her feet and draw her in.  She felt the sand, the coarseness, the slight sting if a shell glanced against her toe...her hair was in a breeze, cascading around her, her top pulled by the wind and warm...her feet cooler in the water.

She felt the tug of the ocean, the tug of the gulf.  She felt what sometimes her heart felt when it was pulled and plucked...she felt the draw, the curve and the slight movement towards the tide.  She balanced all that she could on that slight slope of the shoreline.  She was between the earth and the sea.  Between one world and another.

She came upon a group of pilings, driven deep into the sand, the pier they had supported long gone.  A walkway disappeared.  A feature altered.  Changed.

These pathways that took people to places they had never seen. Adventure, or at least something different.

Those had washed away, empty attempts.  Anyone could venture down the pier.

But the pilings stayed.  Driven deep.  She remarked upon them, noticing their perfect balance, against the earth and the sea.  Reminders.

Reminders of things that stayed stuck.  Things that held on.  Driven deep into the sand against storms and tides.

Accepted them.  Withstood them.

She walked amongst the pilings, feeling quite familiar with them.