dawn

Meditation*

He arrives at shore’s edge, just before sunrise.
He’s brought just one rod with him, all he needs.
He baits the twin hooks with shrimp,
Sets feet in the moist sand,
Places fingers by the first line guide,
Releases the reel bail,
Tightens his hand on the rod’s grip,
And steadies his breathing.

He faces the horizon, waiting for the sun to appear,
Then casts just beyond the submerged dune.
Each incoming wave bends the long rod’s tip,
Each pull back to the sea lets it straighten.
Rod bends, rod straightens, again and again.
The pulse of the sea and the pulse of the planet
Becomes the pulse of the man,
All now beating as one.

*Reworked from an earlier version

A Silent Unfolding

.


He arrives at the entrance to the beach during day’s first twilight,
And, as occurs on occasion, the old man stops dead in his tracks
And plants the base of his surf fishing rod in the sand
While he beholds the majesty of the unfolding scene before him.
The sun is still a few degrees below the horizon, 
Yet the sky and the calm sea glow with early gold,
And night’s reign in the west begins to fade.
.
He lifts his rod and kicks loose the sand from its grip,
Then takes the well-trod curving path to shore’s edge, 
Guided by the rope line that traces each turn,
Shielding the tall grass that bends in the sea breeze as if in prayer.
.
Having cast his line, he sets his rod in its sand spike
And watches intently the golden horizon for the sun’s silent arrival.
As before, he is filled with a wondrous sense of heightened clarity,
Allowing him to see himself both as a witness to a divine unfolding,
And as a thread woven flawlessly within it.

Sailboat and Lighthouse, February 3, 2016, 7:14 a.m., Saint Augustine Harbor

0P1A0242mother RAW&RAW2-doctored sun and lightened-marker moved-cropped for card-medium save

I am a break-of-day photographer who lives at the edge of land in St. Augustine, Florida. Since moving here, I have become drawn to moored sailboats in our small harbors that open into the vastness of the Atlantic. My attraction is related to a notion I have of man’s boundless curiosity that has historically driven him to undertake dangerous, far-ranging seagoing adventures.

The best time to capture this mood with my camera, I have learned, is during the brief period before and after the sun rises on days of partly clear skies and gentle winds. The sun’s light is not blindingly bright then, and its position is low, horizontal to objects on the water and beneath the clouds, resulting in deepened colors, highlighted shadows, long reflections in still waters, and, when I am lucky, an arresting photo.