Greetings dear aunt...

[weedguru_animal]

Greetings from my lounge of sand, dear aunt,

where I’m cooking more swiftly
than the brisk breeze suggests.

Only when it briefly pauses—
the wind herself needing to take breath—
can I glean a more important peek
at my own thermometers.

Yet I’m wading often
into the gorgeous spring tides,

sending a kiss
and a wish of love
to my four-legged friend
long departed for other realms,

knowing they will take them
through the portal
of wave and moon,

beyond
and between.

And the currents
are still so excitedly crisp.

I emerge tingling all over,

my attention drawn totally, instantly,
towards the daylight, half-revealed
lunar home of Ixchel

and other celestial, crater-based goddesses,

whose presence
my senses are always glad to find,

whether singing through the tides
or lighting my way through the night.

Here is my favourite bay hideaway.

Thick banks of green leaves
separate and cocoon the shoreline,

and gorgeous blue hues
deepen swiftly,

cutting me off from the land of humans
and their machines behind me,

out of mind.

Barely any of their noise reaches
my open-air living room,

with waves lapping
near my toes
and scribbles.

It is still too chilly
to snorkel and soar endlessly
above the seabed,

pestering the bizarre little chubby fish
wearing chequered suits,

their faces made up like clowns
with lipstick,

seeking pretty new shells
to gift my nieces

or add to the collections
which naturally form
in every room of my lair

and anywhere else I settle.

Now are the seasons
when I leave a trail of sand
in my wake.

It drops from me
when I change clothes,

is found in my pockets
and fresh-washed socks,

like a Brothers Grimm fairytale
by the seaside,

I am always leaving a trail
back to where
water meets land.

I’ll soon have to reluctantly leave,

but a while longer
I can embrace

the beaming smile
I become

all over,

inside out,

when immersed
in my natural home.