It’s still hot and muggy,
windy and cloudy,
but now, baptized by salt spray,
I move through the air
as one who belongs here,
easing into the familiar lightness
of bone, expansiveness of breath.
Crickets and small birds
sing songs of evening.
Masts of moored boats clank,
engines of boats and planes
stretch out loud against the quiet of the land,
the rain and thunderstorms
still pent, unspent,
but I’m no longer waiting,
now fully here.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 2, 2013
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