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Bi Janus

Sea sounds

confound the ear

as the snowy mountain

contours before me

mimic swelling waves,

snow into ocean cries,

residue of heartfelt wonder.

The voices of the boys

laughing on the trail

to the Devil’s Elbow

raise you from the ash

crunching under foot.

Bellies on short boards,

we nose over swells

made across the world

by a storm we shan't see.

A couple in the evening,

riding again and again

toward the eastern shore

and our clothing,

we force past the breakers

westward toward Mexico

to more gentle undulation,

and wait side by side

for a wave to lift us.

As I turn to catch, dark friend,

you catch my hand with yours,

keeping us joined and pointed

to the disk of the dipping sun,

every hope and fear

distilled to shared silence,

delaying an inevitable journey.

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First time I have ever seen surfing as a setting for our live's journeys and inevitable demise. How wonderful is the journey with our beloved friend's hand in our own.


Is that you Nami?

(Sorry, couldn't resist)

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