Coriolis

"Where stream and source fail, where no 
refreshment exists, I quench your thirst from
hidden depths: I am your sustenance today
and tomorrow."
                      ~ "Well," M.C. Escher, from
                          XXIV Emblemata, 1931


Spirit, I give you my string of seed pearls, a pewter 
pendant returned to some semblance of shine
with a scrub of toothpaste and water. 

Even after the fact, in my mind, I am always 
composing a letter. But I have a hard time deciding 
how much to bequeath and how much to withhold. 

I forget where it was I started, what I gathered,
what I intended to do with it.  Spirit, I listen 
to gulls cry in the wind and imagine 

they know where all the boats in the world 
are going. I imagine how wind currents skim 
the length of the bay, rotating clockwise as if 

proportional in force to some great heart in
its depths. Spirit, I still want to stay. Fog wets 
my cheek. The coasts have not all washed away.