Issue 10
Pure
Angela Kenyon
Home
Welcome
Contents
Contact Us
Join Our Mailing List
What's New
Site Map
Site Search
Blessed
I wait alone at the cliff's edge for the evening departure of
birds across the strait. I hear their chitter and the whip of wings a full
minute before their fluid geometry fills the violet and cobalt sky above me. A
flutter passes through my body and my heart, silvery wings lift me and I fly
with the dark birds toward the moon.
But the soft murmur of waves beckons, lures me down. I float,
caressed by the gentle swell, until silently, I slip under the black water. It
sluices across the thin silk of my gills, leaving a tang of salt in my throat. I
swim lazy circles through the kelp with the narrow-headed fish, then stand on
the bottom, wriggling my toes in the gritty sand, dislodging tiny white
bones.
Slowly, slowly, I rise to the surface, fearful I've been gone too
long. Our dinner hosts will be restless. I close my eyes, lift my face to the
darkening sky and whisper, "Thank you."
Back at the house I sip coffee and eat delicate pumpkin tarts.
Only my lover notices the feathers in my hair and the flash of purple starfish
caught in my toes.
~Angela Kenyon
Angela loves her hectic life with her family in British Columbia,
but embraces every second when she can sit alone and play with language and
imagination. Email.
© 2002 by Angela Kenyon. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated December 23, 2002.