Sunday, July 17, 2016
On a Rocky Beach in Maine
evergreen air
lapping water
evening sun
we searched for shapes
and colors.
My eye caught many,
yours but one.
You pressed into my hand,
closed our fingers round,
a heart shape stone
I meant to keep forever
... but lost along the way.
Dormant half a century,
that still frame moment
returned to me,
woke me in the night
like the snap of a branch
or the call of a loon
over water.
Bridget Harwell
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