|July 9, 2011, painting with Cheryl, writing with Peter at Ft. Ebey State Park on Whidby Island|
So many bright stones turn in shoreline surf
that when I close my eyes at night, they still
shift, roll, shine in the water sliding down
the cave wall of my sleep.
In half lit trance I gather again green jasper, slick,
hard as jade. White quartz, rounded into thousands
of small bird eggs, is beach punctuation
in the grammar of the shore.
Once again, in dream I said, “Pile the clearest agates
on my grave when I go, fresh
from the tumbler of the sea.
Find them for me here, on this
sunny, specific strand of gravel beach,
headland to headland, where
even the oldest cliffs dissolve
to polished agates moved by waves.”
|The Bluff Trail entices us from headland to headland|
|The wind driven shapes of ancient trees|
|Art lessons on the picnic table; Cheryl’s beautiful soft washes|
|my paintbrush overloaded with all the colors of the evening sky|
Sandy Brown Jensen
Photos by Peter Jensen
Art lessons by Cheryl R. Long