Of Mist, Mountain, and Shore

by Christopher James

OF MIST, MOUNTAIN, AND SHORE

I am a creature of the shadowed moss–

a sun-dappled fern

tucked away on the banks of mountain streams.

The Mother Ocean still calls to me.

I join the others–

locals, travelers like me;

strangers from all walks and ways

drawn by the inexorable pull.

We wait together in silence.

The mile-long stretch of wet, grey sand vanishes,

disappearing into the morning gloom.

Out in the distance,

across the vast reaches.

the day is born.

The red blister pops,

spilling light,

staining the world crimson.

We record this

on film,

on paper,

on eyes and transitory memory.

I am a creature of sea smoke–

salt air and brine,

vanishing beneath the tide.

CHRISTOPHER JAMES

Christopher James is an author and award-winning poet who hails from the old, low mountains of Upstate New York. He is a husband and father, an Army veteran, an infrequent outdoorsman, and a devotee of the ways of a well-seasoned cast-iron pan. For more information, please visit christopherjameswrites.com