A Long Walk East

The birds gossip to one another as I walk back from the farmer’s market, whispering to each other that I spent way too much on daikon radishes and hibiscus soda. I take refuge from their words in my own mind. I had a crazy thought today, my love, and I just wanted to bounce it off your romantic brain. I thought about how wild the world is that if I just leave my house and walk in one direction long enough I would reach the ocean eventually. If I spent less time writing poetry and more time walking east, I could revel in the sea breeze and shake the sand from my hair. I could kiss the salt spray and build castles out of driftwood. I could weave the dune reeds into a fiber crown and place it upon your head and anoint you queen of the universe or at least our 30 feet of white sand. So if you think that that’s a good idea and that yes, I could easily take a break from writing poetry I will lace up my good walking shoes, my dear, and leave the pens and paper at home, walking east into the sunrise.