A look at the ocean today, from my warm-sun bench above the cliffs.
It is a pretty blue on the low edges of the horizon.
Muddy gray-blue comes close to shore where sunbathers splash in the incoming surf.
I can tell from the Friday frantic traffic that a weekend is coming to this tiny beach village.
The citizens fight for parking spots.
Those who have one head to the shore line.
What is this way of seeing that has come over me?
In front of me nearly a puppet show.
The thin strings make the characters move in a jerking motion.
Beyond the blue backdrop I can see forever.
What contrast, the wild activity close and the deep calm beyond.
And then me, sitting on high, above it all, just watching.
I must be awakening from a long restful nap.
I see this happening yesterday, last week, the previous year, and onward, into the future.
I am sandwiched in on both edges of time, in this rich moment.
All that happened back then is still happening back then.
It is still really happening back then.
All the laughing, playing, frisbeeing, and dogs leaping.
All of that.
I would like to go back and see for myself.
I have the thirst to investigate.
But there is no path to bring me to that looking-backward spot.
I’m on the other side and will always be on the other side.
Close to the next day, but not there either.
Stuck in a solid column of salt.
I trust that the wonderful sunny day happening a week ago is still going on just fine.
The coolers and bright towels still litter the gleaming sand.
Nothing is breaking or fragmenting.
The day I watched today, as well, continues spinning along with such wonder and intense depth.
If a tomorrow comes, I should like to deeply know that I have seen this one,
even if for only the first time.