Into my
settled, still space you came, like a sprite, an Ariel
just whisked off the beach along the wild coastline of California,
the scent of sand, seaweed, salt spilling out around you,
all over the wooden floor under the candle, the neat carpet and cranberry couch
in my study, as I think about my adult children, now about your age.
I recall your wild but earthy spirit, a bright, deep well, a fusion of contraries,
like a soft breeze of brown and blue, flowing current, sweet soil.
I think you are surprised to see my grey hair, the lines and fatty deposits
around my eyes.
Your wide, clear brown eyes
look into my soul, searching for happiness, for peace;
I am a puzzle to you.
But I live again the dreams you carried like water in abalones,
as you roamed in flip-flops and chased ideals obliquely, maybe just missing the mark
but nevertheless building yourself
into me.
