“Where the sea recedes…” – Joan Colby

King Tides sluice ashore, erase footprints,

bury broken seashells, repossess clots of flotsam.

Tabla rosa sands cradle twitching blue ocean.

Lupine, orange poppies camouflage forest burn scars.

Forking deer trails traverse ridge tops,

challenge temptation to explore new directions.

After a year of isolation, I embrace my inner hermit,

discover a growing inability to reconnect,

unwillingness to resume a destructive old normal.

Needled cactus passively fend off intruders.

I prefer a locked door, empty calendar squares,

lone meanders through redwoods.

White cowled lilies cluster in shadow.

Solitary confinement restores frazzled nerves.

Serenity bathes my ragged soul, confers absolution.