DRIFTWOODS -- There are two driftwood logs intertwined on a rough Pacific Coast beach. They have remained together for year after year,,,

Clouds that melt into the sea,
Rain gray blankets that tuck you in.

Mountains that disappear
before rainy fingers
that touch and whisper
to every nook and cranny.


Dark green forests that lay
even more quietly
under this
dampening silence.

Beaches take the time for loving
Once the heart of living trees

Driftwoods -- how inadequate

To describe two lovers
who still dance together.

Limbs entwined
Like Spiritfingers
caressing this beach
with such touchings
and awakenings.


.

The sky is restless, and the rain it comes

knitting with the sun --
the undying spirit
of these trees,
and their 'Winter's love,'
so eloquent --
so strong.


Spirits rising so quietly
out of these cold liquid depths.
Hoping to wake those who would listen,
and see different skies,
past flat surfaces,
and lands
no longer there.


To find silences released,
and memories of different eyes
now revealingly distinct --



Warm voices waken
from these stranded roots.
Patterns of earlier seasons,
still pregnant, still drifting...

What stories these cedars whisper,
of birth
of forest roots,
of dreamings,
intertwining.
Of centuries flowing past,
of rains,
and storms
and memories
coursing through their leaves.



Will our footprints leave such rich patterns behind?

Was it a storm,
or the coldest tremor of them all --
a man
sharpened with a saw who penetrated their flesh
and put an end to these ancient lives.

These Driftwood Spirits washed into this ocean
onto this beach
into this solitude,
so new lovers
could hear their whispers
embrace once again --
and imagine
that leaves
still dance .. somewhere

Locked tightly,
these Lovers,
these sun-bleached
driftwoods
still drifting,
through seasons
not yet tasted.

Heartbeats, still locked together
Driftwoods that lift up to angels.

© Herb Senft