Home

I'm back home now,

after four days at the Writers' Conference.

My cat, Annie,

greeted me anxiously,

then tore

out the door.

I bring in my luggage,

computer,

notebooks.
Business cards.

Read some poems by Makuck.
(Man, can he write!)
You feel your life richer,
fuller,
after reading...
My brain is reeling
trying to find the poem
about an ocean rescue.
How Makuck swam out to sea
to help a boy who was drowning.
I cannot find the poem
in the Long Lens of verses.

Patience...
Every poem is a revelation.
Reading them, I wonder
if I missed my calling.

I scan the things I've unpacked --
a lush magazine called Salt
with an article about a woman
who prints from a 1907
printing press,
and another one about an artist
referred to as the Mystical
Queen of Cape Fear.

Only one more bag to unpack --
 books by Egerton,
Blanco,
Rumi

Reflecting now on my holy
day at Wrightsville Beach.
I feel complete.
Grateful that I took an extra day
to inhale the exquisiteness
of that place.
75 and sunny on the 18th
of November, 2013,
a perfect day.

Now I have seen some beaches --
Del Ray
Monteray
Sitka
Santa Cruz
La Jolla
Laguna
Corolla
Cocoa
Manhattan
Miami
Tybee
Tangier
Ocracoke.

But none so splendid
as this...
except maybe Ocracoke.