This was begun Monday, September 25, 2023.

i fed the cats while Maureen slept before i walked out to retrieve the newspaper, a tradition since my birth that i fear will end soon.

It was gray, a seaport morning. i stood in the middle of our driveway and wondered what folks would think of an old man standing barefoot in shorts and tee shirt before the Southwest corner really began to stir. i raised my sights to the sky. Gray, all gray. Then, a lone raven came a’winging on high from the northwest headed southeast toward the Mexican hills and mesas as if on a mission. i watched him in his flight, flapping quickly, on a mission. His energy expended would wipe out a runner before 100 yards. His flight was straight, unwavering. i wondered why this solo raven would have such purpose.

Then, another raven appeared from the same origin, on the same line as the first disappeared into the gray of the Mexico sky. Then another: same flight, far enough to seem unrelated. Then another, again distant enough from his predecessor to seem unrelated. And another, the last one, followed, the same path with the same energy.

i marveled at the world, at nature, at ravens, at life. There is so much we don’t know, can’t comprehend in this gray of morning in a seaport town. This, i think, is a good thing, sort of like living with it, dealing with it as is.

Early morning gray and purposeful ravens is a good way to start a day.

ah, to feel the sea
to be as one with the sea,
to talk to her,
one must, must
sail past Cape Hatteras
in the night where
‘tis never calm:
the seas always building
to a frenzy,
the winds a’ whipping
like a banshee screaming,
the ship a’ pitching and a rolling
like it ain’t gonna stop rolling over
until
past the point of no return;
the white caps dominating the seascape;
the torrent of salt water plunging
down the weather decks
worse than the most violent
flood surge of the Mississippi;
the sailors around turning pallid
taking turns upchucking over
the port or starboard sides
and
in the middle of the fear and panic
understanding comes
and
she, the sea, talks to you,
tells you in a way no one else can hear
this is her way
to allow you to acknowledge
she is the sea.

peace will follow
and
you will rest easy
at sea.