After you left I jogged  along the shoreline past the carnation houses  along the jetties where scattered surfers waded hoping to catch the last waves.  A haze veiled the shore and vanished in the rain.  Globules of salt encrusted my eyelids and each breath ripped upward from my belly tearing through my lungs. I sank down on the damp sand behind the old seafood restaurant. Unearthly howls carried out across the waves dissolving into the sea.

I want to believe that the ocean is a froth meringue not a murky depth where in heavy boots you wade past that place where you lose your grip and the rush of saltwater fills your eyes and mind but not the air.

Sea gulls swoop and squawk,  perfect black angles against the sky. I open my book by Tennessee Williams whose writing I abhor but the edge of its cover was leaning out as I passed the bookcase, Sweet Bird of Youth.

*So I close my eyes softly
’til I become that part of the wind
that we all long for sometime”

*Stevie Nicks

139 thoughts on “Sweet Bird

  1. Sweet. Really fabulous writing. Seagulls flew overhead yesterday. They circled and circled on a thermal gaining height. One by one they kissed the clouds before flying southward. Not a swoop was seen or squawk heard as they silently flew toward infinity.

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  2. This is so lovely, you get lost in your words, carried away with the visuals you describe. I especially was holding my breath for these lines:

    “I want to believe that the ocean is a froth meringue not a murky depth where in heavy boots you wade past that place where you lose your grip and the rush of saltwater fills your eyes and mind but not the air.”

    I love Stevie Nicks by the way. Nicely done my friend. Happy New Year and blessings to you. xoxoxo Love Joni

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  3. A stunning melancholy which always grips my heart. I adore how I read of the storm that reduces the heart and soul to that part that is soulful, gentle, and embracing a change like the tide that rushes in then recedes revealing gentle pools with wind kissed ripples while the tide crashes further out.

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      1. 😌 my pleasure Rene, and thank you. Today is a significant day in my life as I begin on a new azimuth in life, and your Sweet Bird resonated deeply, a beautiful harmony.

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  4. There are far worse tears to cry…
    far worse places to rest wet legs…
    far worse wings to follow…

    whether seagulls
    made of old wet rope
    or angels
    caught in tangled tentacles of hope…

    There are far worse words to read…
    far deeper tides to tread…

    Always yours.

    The best of all these heart-stung worlds…

    always yours.

    Happy new year.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Amazing prose, lines rich of feeling.
    For these pictures the songs of Lana del Rey are okay.
    Happy New Year Holly 🎉💖
    Wishing you hopeful, joyful 2021!

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  6. Prose doesn’t get better than this!
    Pretty as a picture, with add ons.
    It’s incredible what you packed into 3 paragraphs and a quote.
    Thank you, Holly! xo🎨xo

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          1. Now that’s music to my ears!
            Norm still plays his guitar alone, but it sounds lonely, albeit romantic.
            He’s also got a guitar up here, by the bed.
            Nothing like an amp on 10 first thing in the morning!!! 🤣 xo

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  7. Oh Holly, this was so breathtaking to read! Such heart-wrenching lines sprinkled with gorgeous evocative images of crashing waves and soaring gulls – a beautiful elegy to such emotional turmoil ❤

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  8. With such vivid images accompanying the pain of loss, I felt as if I was immersed in the scene and could feel the wind off the ocean.

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    1. Once again we are on the same wavelength as I’ve just returned from your unveiling of the meaning of life. I’m eternally grateful and wiser for it. Your faithful friend , youngish Holly.

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  9. Okay, this is akin to going to a museum and standing in front of a piece of art and just losing yourself in the brilliance of the soul, to create art such as this.

    And because I couldn’t leave out a word of this . . .

    “I want to believe that the ocean is a froth meringue not a murky depth where in heavy boots you wade past that place where you lose your grip and the rush of saltwater fills your eyes and mind but not the air.”

    The whole paragraph, it’s just perfect.

    Brava.

    Liked by 3 people

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