I am a Boston native with an innate love of the ocean and people who make me laugh. I'm married and we have three children. I could best be described as a teacher, a perpetual student and a writer.
Maya Angelou 1928-2014
Nothing is permanent
except perhaps that voice
that rose like pure unadulterated air
beyond the pale of all tomorrows.
She breathed in a spiritual essence and
exhaled words etched with attitude,
imbued with a certitude that just being could
be stone cold but also light, so light,
that the dust left after
life's grinding and pummeling
would drift into the atmosphere,
pushed by the winds of strength
propelled by her lyrical prose
that spoke to the broken parts of all of us,
smoothing the edges with the graceful
unbowed cadence of her eternal dignity.
The Taste of Dark Water
There is a stillness
when sinking into dark water.
A calm that envelops you
after the storm has passed
and you are spent,
bruised from the dashing of the rocks
and the slaps of the whitecaps,
no longer gasping for air.
Sinking slowly in graceful balletic turns,
time has left with a long list
of others to push toward the shore,
and the relief is immense and welcome.
And through the murky water
there is a sense of clarity
for in all things there is an end
but to truly understand it
we must remember the beauty of how it all began.
Memorable are the long languid days
when humidity hangs
like a heavy surcoat
and the smallest of breezes
offers a promise of relief
like an errant lover.
When the sun slinks slowly
beyond the grateful horizon
the fairies gather along dark roads
and manicured lawns.
then they light up the earth
as they dance against
the velvet sky, these
beneath the leafy canopy
of firefly summer.
©2014 Anne Ross