nine and twenty abalone

 

the Pacific is angry after storms,

spits its vehemence upon a beach

I scry for transcendental relevance

 

fool am I to want the reassurance

of a chambered Nautilus…oh, my soul

to find meaning in the glow of sea glass

 

I watch children scavenge tidals for detritus,

pocket sandy bi-valve clams…all life dissolved;

think their skeletons are treasure…none

 

why then…do I nail upon a yard fence

nine and twenty abalone…grayed…barnacled

rainbow radiance diminished…there

 

Bonnie Marshall

Artwork by Ray Ortner

his haiku

 

he shapes juniperus
brevifolia with his fingertips;
eyes closed…he tunes its canopy
pinch…pinch…thin skin needle sharp
to Zen blaze intimation

he shaves limewood…tilia
soft curls peel beneath
his pocket knife
thin…thin to matchsticks
scatter scryed by fingerfuls
on a crimson scarf
stolen…one day…in a war

he writes…fountain pen
black ink on papyrus…

grounded mourning dove;
footprints chaos the white sand
I raked…mounded smooth

 

Bonnie Marshall

Drawing by Andrew Wyeth