Still Flying

Somehow
I am still FLying.
Soaring between worlds.
Between the SKy and the Earth.
And the Stars.
And the Eagles and the Gulls.

They Swim past me.
Gliding on the Thermals.
Dreaming of Coasts.
Beaches.Cliffs.Crags.

Nests. Eggs. Waves. Surf.
Eggs. Hatchlings. Babies.
Fish.Turtles.

I land on the beach.
I see the dog sitting on the sand.
Looking at the lighthouse.
I ask him for the time.
He gives me his time.

And listens to me.
All through the day.
And the sunset.
And the moon rises.

He fell asleep at my feet.
With the waves testing his slumber.
He sleeps oblivious.
To the waves at his feet.
To the impending Thunderstorm.

To the little crabs that scurry around his wet black nose.
 

Wonder what he dreams about.

I keep looking at him for a long time.
The moon sets on the other side of the cliffs.
I look across at the tide now rising.
It has reached the steps where i sit.
It snatches my notebook.

I run after the notebook.
I snatch it back from the wave.
One tight slap.
It recedes.
Sheepish and vengeful.
No Doubt.

The boat remains on the Beach.
On its back.
Upturned. Awaiting Paint.
Just like it was last year.
Neglected.