The shoreline is a paper waiting for a story. Frequent coal blue skies compete with the gray of midday. Oil cloth jackets provide temporary warmth. Multiple nearby voices scale up the dunes, but the power of the waves refuse them any higher. Birds scatter and then rejoin, swiftly passing overhead. The winds are held together … More HIGH DUNES
Move strong. Wise steps. A path of glory. A song on the lips. High noon. The aroma of fresh air. Long roads beckon. New towns stare at the curious. Billboards sell air time. Traffic lights hold us back. Sidewalks never wide enough. Church steeples all point. School yards wait for recess. Cars know their owners. … More OK, NOW GO
WHERE I STAND Since childhood I’ve stood here, looking out as if waiting for something to appear. We are shorelines. Pressed by waves of thoughts, touched by winds of words, yet we feel safe in the safety of an eventide flow. We gather at sunset, remembering farewells while shading our eyes … More WHERE I STAND
It’s a cleansing a falling of warm comfort or cold for thirst, running from streams to oceans cast down from openings the drops add to earth’s bounty the catch basin never filling or emptying held steadfast by shorelines the great walls retaining the formidable wrath of angry giants searching, hoping for an escape, a way … More SHORELINES
Roger Singer 