We sat on the beach near the fire,
Two old people bundled against the cold Oregon sunset.
Friends we’d never met fished the surf,
Children and dogs ran at waves’ edge.
Red sky, red mist, red sunset. Fire, water, wind, and you.
Wind whipped my hair, gray and uncut,
Tore it from its inept braid,
August wind, chill inside my hood, but I remained,
Pleased to be with you, and pleased to be on that beach.
The sea roared loud, filling my ears,
My blood and
And where ever you are that is my beach,
My ocean, my sunset.
Mist rose with the tide, closed in and enfolded us,
Blotting out the falling stars and,
Laughing at our folly,
We dragged our weary selves back to our digs,
Rented, but with everything two old people needed.
The gas fire warmed me
And you warmed me,
And these memories warm me now
When snow blankets our inland valley
And Oregon seems far, far away.