Anna Blake Godbout
Notes from the Ridge
Evening Tour
Walking under the magical light of a lavender dusk;
the crushed shell road crunches under my weary feet.
I am alone, with thoughts that blow and swirl around
to the incessant voice of high tide,
as if placing one step ahead of the other
gives the trusted answer.
Scoured by raw salty winds, aged by the sharp sun,
a splintered fence appears and meanders
among tall clumps of beach grass and crowded sea roses.
I take in the sky’s lantern watching
one sanctuary dissolve into another
Retreating into the shouldering dunes undisturbed;
I allow the quiet of stopped wind breathe into my veins
as sloping sand spills down
settling around my footsteps.
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