Fishing in Cape Breton

Crisp
are the winds
that brought me to you
along the broken path
by the Ocean’s roar.
Jagged
were the rocks
that dangled beneath.
So close
to losing my footing
and slide
towards my demise.
Dangerous drops
rarely lead
to peaceful waters
and yet,
in all my meanderings
I failed to fall.
Rugged
was my resolve
in the hopes
that I too
could balance
on the fine line
that pushes
one foot
after the other
towards
the unknown.
Unfortunate
are those who strive
to maintain happiness
as a constant
instead of a rare pearl.
A thing
to be held close,
cherished
and observed
in moderation.
Happiness
isn’t a fish
you can catch,
but a fleeting moment.
Just breathe it in
and let it go.
Breathe me in…
And let me go.

February

Originally written on February 8, 2014

As the brisk cold caressed our faces,
On this slow Sunday on a Saturday.
The Universe came to a halt.

I watched through the window,
A statuesque passerby smiling.
The traits of their frozen face,
Speaking a language beyond words.

On slow Sundays on a Saturday,
It feels like I’m floating above the world.
Every step feels like I’m on the moon.
Maybe the moon looks down on me,
Envious of my lack of gravity.

Slow Sundays on Saturdays,
Make the winter nostalgia lessen.
The numbing cold becomes Lavender,
Or a rainbow of Spring flowers.
The sound of a jazz piano,
Amidst the deafening silence of this day.

Come take a walk with me,
On this slow Sunday on a Saturday.
Watch the world through the eyes of
A minstrel of the moon…

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved