Meditation
The rain has stopped, and the half moon is suspended between two fir trunks, Orion’s belt glimmering not far away. In South America, they call this constellation “The Three Maries”. I still like the idea of the eternal hunter. Seeing the dim light pour in through the window I feel strangely reassured: all is as it should be. I can safely go back to sleep.
After this shift in the weather, I shouldn’t be surprised when I come down to the water’s edge to watch the sunrise: smooth as a sheet of rosy silk, the ocean stretches out before me, no sign of last night’s furious wave-lashing. The tide is very low, and the hues of pink and gold are reflected in the little rivulets of water carving patterns into the sand. The geese have come and gone. Only the heron, looking like a wise old professor with his wisp of feathers extending from the nape of his neck, has taken possession of his favourite boulder a little to my left. Is he, like me, out to greet the new day? More likely he is looking for breakfast.
I decide to forego mine in favour of a walk along the deserted beach. So rarely have I the opportunity to add my tracks in the sand to the big three-toed footprints of the geese and the funny little tire-tread marks of the crab. I enjoy the feel of softness under my feet, stand for a moment where the small waves are finally spent and feel the water pull the slick sand from under my feet. A faint splash makes me turn my head just in time to see a group of small diving birds disappear. A few moments later they pop up, one by one, at a totally different spot, but all close together. They repeat this exercise a few times, then must have decided to check out a different part of the beach: as if following a secret command they start scooting across the glossy water, gaining speed, wingtips touching, denting, but not breaking the surface tension.
After the storm
the beach a blank slate.
Who will write on it now?
A long-time farmer and gardener, Susanne von Rennenkampff often takes her inspiration from the natural world and her travels. Her poems have appeared in a number of literary magazines in Canada and the US, including Room, The Antigonish Review, Prairie Fire, Grain, The Banyan Review, Evening Street Review, Cirque and, most recently and upcoming, St. Katherine Review. A chapbook of her poetry, In the Shelter of the Poplar Grove, was published by The Alfred Gustav Press. She lives in rural Alberta, Canada.
Amethyst Review 