A Point of Time

With a wisp of its salty breath
Autumn beckons me
To this point
At the end of land
Where the sky meets the sea.

Alone at the edge
Where I stand,
The tall pine trees geometric lines dissolve
Into the smooth of the ocean’s shine.

I belong to these hills
That slope gently onto the shore,
Where the tide sweeps wide
To the perfect blue of the sky.

The fields are anchored by the harbor.
Secured beneath the shadows of each day,
Time and the cadence
Of the seasons’ change-
Until we too are a memory…

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