Wednesday, September 11, 2013


Welsh fog horn on long breakwater
Near both coastline and pastures,
Like mournful, complaining cow.
Do cattle imagine a Cow God's
Occasionally meting out advice:
"Staay awaay fromm cliiifffsss!"

Back home, urban Seattle fog horn, 
Same sound, never nor now 
Reminds me of mooing, lowing.
Caution to Puget Sound connective
Ferries and product-loaded freighters:
"You are here! Veer toward piers!"

Damp airiness seeps into and clouds 
Discernment, decisions, cognition.
Inner intuitive warning, course correction:
"You are approaching your edge!
Come back to center! Re-attune to
Rhythm of heart beat and breathing!"

Rather than insistently moving through
And forward, could honor outer and 
Inner marine air pockets' invitation to
Soften, blur, pause, go off-line, relax,
Lean into earned respite, take a break.
Simply wait for sun and warmth to offer 
Ebb and flow, wax and wane, clearing.

Ann Beth Blake
(c) September 10, 2013

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