The air is soft and breathes
better than anywhere else
I could possibly be; there is no
pressure from behind,
no pressure to the west on
this fine grey morning.
The horizon is a line bound
only by my imagination and
the elk watch my back.
The only pressure is deep,
where the plates move, one
under the other, storing energy
that will eventually drop
the sand on which I stand
the height of a man.
Me, for example, probably taller.
The ocean will scour away
all traces of me and mine.
My lifetime; my choice.
The air will stay soft.



(top:; bottom:

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Beach, Earthquake/Tsunami, Oregon and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Geologic

  1. We walked through some of the destruction in NZ, and it was very sobering.

    • narble says:

      Ha! Yes’m. That’s why I drink. But seriously, it is kind of rolling the dice, but this life is this life and I’m a beach kid. It’s a choice we’ve made with our eyes open. I hope you and MTM can visit when we get the house built. I’m a firm believer that you CAN go home again. Damn Thomas Mann.

  2. It sounds so soft and lovely, but it is a hard truth!

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