Arid: Reflections on a Morning

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/arid/

Morning comes with stale coffee lingering in the air.

Dogs in and out, and in, then out. Two words erupt.

Then fall to pieces as likely to grow as limestone.

The cord is missing, my laptop still and thoughtless.

Bright sun burns my eyes, warms my hair,

Overheats the brain straining to find a foothold

In actions positive and bright. But the morning hour,

With its teasing laughter, places me in an arid state.

Atmosphere, dry as my mouth,  nothing  grows today.

Pages to remain blank. Inkless as the well in which

I dip my pen while seeking some other way,

I wish to be in the barren deserts of sand in

Timbuktu, where treasures lie beneath,

Hidden for centuries. Their gift? Knowledge

For the eyes of Africa, hidden from the French,

Manuscripts of jeweled splendor, golden highlights,

Speaking of mysteries solved long ago.

Surrounding a barren land with science, government, humanity.

Like cacti, needling those who would steal their worth.

These documents from the twelfth century, thirteenth,

Fourteenth, Fifteenth. Poetry of the stars to linger.

I would linger in the libraries and ponder how, in an arid desert,

The jewels of creativity could bloom and grow.

I would dally at the question posed of a green world.

How could I, in the setting of new leaves and buds,

Think myself without the soil of imagination?

Such a silly thought that morning is more dry, than the

Deserts of Mali or the great Sahara. Perhaps tea

to motivate and enervate? Or a simple peeled orange?

 

The Wave,Color Contrast:Tuesday Photo Challenge

Tuesday Photo Challenge – Color Contrast

And so the wave lashes its way through the blues of the white sand beach of Tulum. Here is where the Corona ads are created, the Atlantic Ocean, forever picking up a load of sand and moving it as I rearrange the furniture each Christmas. Weed washes ashore only to be thrown back into the shallows as the next wave retreats. Hypnotizing, the waves coming to and fro.

I met a man here on our lunch break. My husband had wandered off to find something he had seen. He was beautiful. I am not. My age, or it seemed so. He made no attempt to lure me into a tepid affair but wanted to know what I saw when I looked around. A kindred spirit of the kind that finds me. It’s totally random, but there is a depth in people that if we give them time to listen to it, comes to be something that must be shared by another spirit. We talked of life, love and how our journeys were never at an end. If he could, he would sit and watch the blues change all day long. So would I. It was a soothing spot, salsa music playing and the smell of chicken roasting in herbs for lunch. Traveling the world had given him scars, but he bore them with pride. He was not a conquerer, instead he was an observer of life.

The camera I used is a Canon G-10. My 50D had gotten totally drowned the day before and was drying. So I had to rely on my little friend the G-10 to record the moment. You can almost feel the grit in the water when you look at the wave. Geologists talk about the work load that a wave can carry. This one is carrying a heavy load. The water is restrained by the weight and is still able to arrive with bubbles, froth, and seaweed.

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