Awakening I love this ordinary August afternoon, heavy breath of sub-tropical heat clinging to me like hot words of a lover, the beach empty of people, the sea, its luminous stillness. I love the way light spills from the sky and weaves between waves a shining cloth of white linen, and the sky itself, shapeless, abstract, big Frankenthaler brush strokes that one could get lost in. And the blue heron standing in a shell of silence, I love the way he partakes of sun's effusive outpouring in the great conch of the sea, waiting, listening without restlessness or change. On this late summer day, I love the transparent wings of dragonflies, who throw their blue green nets and fish " noseeums" from my glistening skin. And wind-up sanderlings that run a race with shirred tides, careen from water's puckered stitch as sea meets sand. I love the screech of gulls, their shrill cries that underscore the quiet. The sea's voice. I love that sound of abundance that bubbles and laughs like the effervescence in a glass of Moet Chandon. But most of all, I love this solitude the inclusion of myself in everything that matters. by Mary Jo Balistreri
