Seasons of Change

Sounds to Last

Last stroll

in the Sanibel dusk

at the edge of a silence

shaped by the sea - a thin shawl of slow water a long sigh to mellow the shore

to reach my bare

feet to curl

sucklings of tiny

shells in a stealth of squibbles between my toes.... As I walk back from the ocean I stoop in the night

to scoop up a hush

of dry land

that wisps and sifts

between my fingers. Time to go. Last flight. In less than three hours I'm home

in Canada. Now

the same head

scoops up

the powder to hold a breath of white to fool the dark a whisper of stillness - a silence of snow...

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