From Six Benches

and a chair...

Benches.

My mom’s longtime friend GM likes benches. If he sees a bench he sits in it. “They must have put it here for some reason. I mean, what do you end up looking at if you sit in it? Sit and look.” And so I do whenever I can.

Yesterday I went for a walk and had a notebook. So I sat at some benches, took a photo, and wrote a little something. Here is the result.

On Bench #1

Flat is the sea

Behind my back the wind

gentle sure

but chilly.

Seldom craving ice cream

on this peninsula

of fog and gray…

…if ever.

On Bench #2

Rocky shards protrude

like glacier ice in a

Superman movie

Irrepressible.

Waterwaves, rain storm

Pounding and they show no

sign-ever-of wetness.

Bench #3

Ropes to protect birds

Fences to protect people

a sailboat yawing

Beachgoers - going.

Despite the chill.

I hear children chasing squirrels

“They will attack!”

shouts the mother.

“I have a stick!”

Yells back the boy.

followed by high pitched playfull screams.

Bench #4

The wind is strong - and I

squint my shoulders against

the cold.

Despair gray but the

viewback

is blue. Sharp.

The sky

clouds to blue

shows the inverse of

land to sea

Clouds forever breaking

on the endless blue shore.

Bench #5

is flat and deep.

Hidden against cement

across a path

a beach

people

Sheltered from wind

I feel radiance in my legs

Surrounded

I am not so

gregarious

as to enjoy this.

Bench #6

A whole new mosaic

kelp strewn like clinging ivy

across a forest floor

Teaming with otters and birds

standing like Jesus

on water.

I have found you! . . . 🙂

But really - no -

it simply searches

for a fish

that looks like kelp

while standing on a

rust brown floating

island.

And a seat - the next day - reflecting on the process.

Moods. Marvels. Malevolence.

Change based on the seat

the view

the pressure of the chair

on my rear

the cold wind in my ear

the steps of soles,

the words of souls

All. Outside. of. me.

So directly impacting.

All. Inside. of. me.

As I try to let the inside out.

On a more serious note

As I walked from bench to bench, I noted the families that walked together on a Friday evening. I live in a tourist town, and they were taking advantage of the coolness and beauty of the coast. I noted how most looked Hispanic. I thought a lot about what I would do if the Terrible Rump’s teams of thugs were to show up. Would I be brave? Would I stand in and help? Demand for an ID. Demand to see a face. Stand in the way. Stand in front of a vehicle? Would I? I don’t know. I don’t want to have to - but if it comes to it - I hope I do.

Hug someone. Tell them you love them.