One More Walk on Asilomar Beach
My new running shoes,
now used for slow walking,
leave a beautiful print in the beach sand.
But as fast as I leave my mark,
the fussy housewife follows
with a crashing scolding
and scrubs out memories of my stroll.
Old friend, all the prints
we left in our many walks here,
have long returned to
smoothed clean sand.
Our voices of old,
so full of our attempted
solemn wisdom,
have long been silenced
by crashing waves.
The sunrises we admired
and the deer and seals
we spotted have
long since disappeared.
There is no record of our
ever having been here.
But that foaming Pacific
can't roar loud enough to erase
your voice in my head.
Nor can her fresh salt air
cover the smell of your pipe.
I can still picture your face
and lanky fisherman's body.
There are footprints in my head,
scent memories in the nose
and pictures behind my eyes.
Those are mine to hold
against time and tide.
As long as I live we can walk
the beach at Asilomar.
Doug Minnis
January 18, 2010