this sky at night, my own delight

 

There is evidence of activity at the shoreline—

Someone has shuffled about in the sand, skipping stones maybe, or staring at the horizon, cloud formations, a sailboat…
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It’s almost as though someone else has been here.

But no. It feels too private, this place where I walk.

Except for the litter, the footprints, a name drawn with a stick, except for all that, surely I’m the only one ever to have been here.
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Right now, that view, this red sky that delights me (possibly because I was a sailor in another life, a pirate according to a woman claiming to know such things; but I don’t like sailing, I explained. Ah, she said, that’s likely because I went down with my ship.)

—this sky

is mine.
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And no one—not pirates nor stone skippers—has ever seen it exactly like this.

 

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4 thoughts on “this sky at night, my own delight

    1. haha! Have never been a dresser-upper, but whenever I did, I’d inevitably forget some essential ‘part’. For instance, one year, at the last moment, and reluctantly, I dressed for a Halloween thing by cutting a hole in a white sheet. Slipped it over my head and went as an angel. All night everyone asked what I was, wanted to know where was my halo, my wings. Oh yeah…

      I have a feeling my Jack Sparrow would look more like funky hobo…

  1. nice. to own the sky. it’s that fast time of year when I see a December posting date and think, oh no, almost a year since the last post? but no, I’ve been here since.

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