Tag Archives: coast life

Haiku: Mist Opportunity

Posted on August 18, 2017 by Jim Stewart

Low cloud off the sea envelopes everything, beading the dark stones. (shore: pixabay.com)

Posted in Haiku, Home, Narble Furt, Ocean, Oregon, Poem, Uncategorized, walking | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Soak and Marinate

Posted on January 12, 2015 by Jim Stewart

The ocean curls over my feet: whale pee, shark pee, my own. If I held a Geiger counter down there and it clicked hard and fast, would it be my feet or Fukushima? So many places washing my feet, so many … Continue reading →

Posted in Earthquake/Tsunami, Ocean | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Haiku–Inside Day

Posted on November 28, 2014 by Jim Stewart

Rain constantly swirls rolling wet, in from the beach; inside is just fine. The fire warms us: the dog sleeps before the stove. Home is a haven. (beach: pmansbach.com; woodstove: desertcanyonliving.blogspot.com)

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Water and Rock

Posted on September 3, 2014 by Jim Stewart

The head winds in these times: a gale blown in from the south drives the sea to a craggy appointment. It makes a shuttered room clean, just enough light to warm pen and paper bound with years and a hum … Continue reading →

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Geologic

Posted on June 29, 2014 by Jim Stewart

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 … Continue reading →

Posted in Beach, Earthquake/Tsunami, Oregon | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Big Rocks — Little Rocks

Posted on June 18, 2014 by Jim Stewart

“Time to make little rocks out of big rocks.” Work is work. I remember: cold clouds slung low, soaking all of us, men and machines thundering through my earplugs and muffs as a thousand drummers play with wild abandon. I … Continue reading →

Posted in memory, Oregon, Poem, Work, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

No Place to Land

Posted on June 4, 2014 by Jim Stewart

The eaves sing their songs, odd harmonies swirling with gulls as they wheel worried among the masts. The crows are hunkered somewhere in the green watching the blustery sway. The chickadees hold tight as near the trunks as they dare. … Continue reading →

Posted in Birds, crow, Poem, Writing | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Homecoming

Posted on May 30, 2014 by Jim Stewart

The grass, bent with breeze, wets my shoes and pantlegs. It tastes of salt and smells of rain as I stand sinking into the sand beneath. My knees are calm, my heart bright; my senses know when I am home. … Continue reading →

Posted in Beach, Home, Humans, Oregon, Poem | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Last Beach House

Posted on May 13, 2014 by Jim Stewart

It sits hollow near the sand washed up the road where the other houses look like waddling waders, maybe clamming, maybe just enjoying the wet. Old Bill built his bungalow back in the teens when high tide was still a … Continue reading →

Posted in end-of-life, Poem, Science, walking | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Birthing a Day

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Jim Stewart

You can hear the ocean early in the morning from here, this house hunkered on the hill, the back side of Soledad Mountain. Mexico is way out there and the lights of downtown muted by salt air rising from Mission … Continue reading →

Posted in Consciousness, Conversation, Humans, Poem, sunrise | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments