A Salt Breeze

Where is the magic?
Where did it disappear?
Where are the laughter and muted voices
Carried like leaves on the soft breeze?
Why does the moon turn away her face
As if disappointed with what she sees?
Where are the priestesses of Luna,
Are they all gone or died out
Or just waiting for another time?

I suppose I could wait for the answer

When the beams of the moon creep

Slowly across my room through the old window-

But, no, today I was sitting on the river bank-

Actually a salt water lagoon, river in name only

That is a few miles west of the ocean-

The Indian River, a short spit of land, then the Banana River

And a short distance to the ocean-

Sitting enjoying the coolness of the breeze

That is flowing from the backside of a tropical storm-

So the heat of the day is tempered by the cool wind

And the glorious clouds, not threatening at all,

Seem intent on reaching heaven itself

And the seabirds and a few crows

Flying into the breeze actually float motionless-

I close my eyes and feel the salt spray

And the damp wester flow through me-

Wondering how far this breeze has blown-

If I am being touched by breath of the ocean

Mixed with the damp from the two rivers

That are between me and the beach-

Closing my eyes again and enjoying the flow

I remember that the next land east after the beach

Is Africa, can part of the smells be from that far

And just how long has this breeze lived-

Could it be fragments of ancient times-

If I listen hard enough, can I hear the whispers?

How arrogant of me to question magic,

When today just sitting here, I can feel it

In this wonderful breeze all around me.

Just by being silent, I can hear it-

I don’t need to ask questions

When the answers flow,

Even for someone as thick as me.

I can see it even with my eyes closed

But it all is so much more glorious

When I open them.