Ancestress

I am an old woman sitting on the beach                      

pink scarf   holding back   windblown hair                   

a mother makes bird calls 

to her children playing

they come running  whistling   a secret code

huh.  a family of birds

beating wings   forever young.

growing up was a long paddle then 

slicing the wind   feeling the board   slip

out from under you

fallingdown, standing up

falling down, standingup

wave riders make their own delight

like babies   learning   to walk.

the sea pitches windflower caps

in harmony with   ringing sand    underfoot

you hear the possibility of

pure clarity, good health

though season's children don't recognize 

these   sad    retreats.   

water builds and fills your ears

for you are now    swimming                                  

with the ancients

glancing back 

from time to time   you preen

to shore up morale?

I am an old woman sitting  

on the beach

pink scarf     holding back

windblown hair

I'll sleep high in a monkey pod

tree tonight

legs dangling in silk trousers,

butter cookies in a tin under my arm     dreaming

of the young long boarder on her knees

paddling smooth strokes & with

fluid grace punching through

the    wild surf    of her youth.