Under the Pier
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Being here again
I let the feelings from last year wash over me
A thousand tides rerunning the same sequences in my mind
The same doubts and dreams wash in and out
Yet never reach my toes
The old boards block the sun and bustle of the beach
making it distant
the coolness
makes me feel like time has stopped
protected and calm
The barnacled pillars of Hercules understand
And offer cobwebs, spray glistening
Shooting lines of light in the breeze

I find that I've been absently gathering straw into a pile
A male pigeon wanted it but kept distance from the people
sensing my brokenness
He is not afraid though I am the closest
picking up the straws one by one, placing them on the nest
His black head nuzzles her white wing
unaware of their difference
the only image he has of himself is a reflection
in the dark eye of his mate