Wonderment

Wonderment

Sunrise seemingly slept in this day
as remnants of moonlight remain
from wintersweet sky,
clouds seemingly hand-spun, perhaps felted.

Chaste mauves, mellow mangos, sedate grays
waterscape morning's horizon,
cocoon me between sand dunes
as if I'm a mermaid with sea-salted hair.

Battered coral and broken shells speckle and glint
beneath watchful eyes of seagulls pronouncing
"Day's begun!"; industrious scavengers
whose work has yet to be done,

begging, stealing.  And I indulge them,
content to offer my bagel and a prayer,
watch both soar over heads of a mother and child;
remember when I first showed my babes

their first glimpse of the sea.

by Margaret Bednar, March 11, 2020

This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #10 - Early Bird or Night Owl?"

I just got back from a relaxed stay in Florida's (the USA's) oldest city of St. Augustine and the beach.  Great food, great history, and glorious (gray) morning sunrises.  The sun, even hidden behind the clouds, is a wonder to me.

Longing

Longing

My rhododendron leaves curl in upon themselves,
frosted with light snow; count the days 'till beachside.
For now, the taste of Myrtle honey
flavors my tongue; thank the industrious bees
that gather nectar from salt marsh shrubs -
horizontal thickets joined by Holly, Bayberry and Elder.
They lean and give to ocean winds, salty spray, and burning sun;

a harsh existence I won't acknowledge until summer.
I will also miss spring blooms beneath the Oak, Sweet Gum,
and Sassafras; witness not white innocence, lavender toadflax,
violet bull thistle, and green life everlasting.

Instead, I will ponder coast’s blue, shimmering surface come June,
above soda straw worms, knobbed whelks, moon snails,
and lettered olives.  A few will be tossed with the tide
upon the sand, collected along with angle wings, heart cockles,
small colored clams, and the rare chipped sand dollar
and sea star.

But for now, I wrap my sweater snuggly about my shoulders
and sigh, honeyed myrtle warming my tongue.

by Margaret Bednar, January 22, 2020

This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #3 - Salt-water poems"

Precarious

Precarious

I walk along the shore, stop, slowly scan moist sand,
am delighted with little islands of water surrounding rocks,
shells, an occasional dying jellyfish.

Remember my excitement at finding three scotch bonnets
last spring.  Today I've a small bucket with moon snails;
the Atlantic's gift to me this spring morn.

I sift through them knowing beauty often belies nature,
and these little emperors of the sea swaggered blue bicorn hats and swords,
drilled holes in prey and consumed.

My eyes follow the pull of the tide, over the surf, to the lull
of peaceful blues and greens; know dolphins are giving birth
and Loggerhead sea turtles are nesting.

Mothers and new life.  Marvel at the delicate balance;
how some will protect, others will allow stars to guide
and nature to provide and predict baby's fate.

Danger lurks throughout the deep, and many, so young,
will perish and others, through chance or fate, will thrive
beneath turquoise waters where I stand at tide's edge and wonder.

by Margaret Bednar, June 6, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Guest Appearance with Ella Wilson - Tarot Cards"  I hope I followed the directions "Your Interpretation does not have to follow the traditional reading of tarot, may be as magical as your own imagination."  Obviously, I used them as inspiration for my feelings along the shore.  The deck I chose looked like it had a moon snail (or shark eye) shell on top of it - I have collected a few of these.  The overall feeling I got from the tarots was "perilous" or "precarious" - a bit of soldier, protection, danger - but a feeling of fragility as well...

Catharsis

Catharsis

Seaside's tide nibbles my toes,
laughingly splashes,
at times crashes ferocious
seemingly battling destiny:
pulling, shifting, forever reaching,
eventually settling, violently or peacefully
as today melts into tomorrow -

and as I brush sand off my hands,
I toss yesterday towards the horizon
and welcome eve's refreshing breeze.

by Margaret Bednar, April 16, 2019