Island Time

I am used to the very dark,

working in the small hours

before the Sun wakes

and the world winds up,

but the slow days,

mist mornings on the isle

have tempered me

to where my heart beat

matches the procession of the day.


Learning is patience.

Growth is pain.

Anxiety is a crush of nerves,

space/time condensed

smaller than we can process.

Maybe this is the lesson here;

the island pace,

no match for the race back home.


Room to breathe,

room to roam

and only the sea

and the sky

to keep you honest.

Maybe this is the lesson;

to be slowed down enough

to catch it,

keep it,

carry it home.


In the morning,

the Sun comes through

a side light

beside the door

and it is far later than it would usually be

for writing,

but I’m not fighting it.


I’m going with the tide.

The breath of the ocean

matches my own, now.

I have ceased to resist

and I understand

the lesson, now.

Let every experience chance you.

No two days

are the same.

Just let them come

and be ready to receive them.


HG – 2018


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