And I imagine underneath
What seems to be a placid sea,
Life churns the silted sands of time
Years and years
In the making
Grains of brokenness
Teeming now with signs of life
Cycles of  the salty chains
Concentric circles
Old and new, life
In the quiet, creatures spin
Watery webs of
Sea life, below a murky grey tinged
Surface, ceiling to their room
Dwelling there in the

And I too
Underneath a paradox of quiet
Swirling, churning, cycles of this
New growth
Witness to ends and endings
Many to recount
In this space

I design my own
Land-locked home

And words leak out in advance
Of a watery avalanche
Story-telling prepares
To wash ashore

It will come
On the next high tide
Or the high tide after that

But waiting in the quietude
Life teems with
Pregnant thoughts

The words won’t wait forever

Quiet holds its breath
But for a season
Tides wait for no one

Won’t you come ride the swells
With me
Fueled by
Weeks of
The dam prepares to burst


Joining Jennifer Dukes Lee for #tellhisstory




A Perfect State Of In Between

provider mcclellanvilleA Perfect State Of In Between

When the door opens on the old white ice box
he peels back the Reynolds
aluminum foil, covering the prize he’s purchased
and reveals the blue guys from the sea.

We’ve been waiting for awhile, well a year
for them
and I see myself.
But don’t tell him, or anyone.

Timing is important.
Well it’s everything in fact.
And seasons come and  go.
It’s their season now.
The soft shells are ready, and I am too.

I see myself in the metal pan under the foil.
In them,  in this  perfect state of in between.
Change made them perfect.
Life stopped for them, perfection frozen
At this time of molting.

I hear the excitement in his voice.
The eyes stare up, the pairs of beady blues
Row on row.
We know this soft shelled state.
We know it well.
And we know the seasons too, the ones of change.
Are there really any other.

And it is where we live most of our days,
In between
The shedding and the growing
The softening and release.
Gone are layers, left to float ashore.

I want to thank them for the gift.
An offering, a delicacy.
For stopping at the perfect time
And showing me the joy
that shedding brings

A perfect state of in between.