ocean breezes

Ocean Breezes

by Catherine M Braun

It could be opal

or mother-of-pearl

abalone shell.

Maybe a puddle on the road,

slick with oil.

A perfect glass surface

iridescent in the waning sunset.

The hazy horizon a dusky purple

as the sun slips down

behind islands that look like mountains.

Down here in the valley that is not

I ache; I’m awed by the beauty.

I taste salt on my lips.

This, this is what I miss

when I’m surrounded by rolling green hills

and mountains that smoke,

when I taste damp with every breath –

only this –

and blue mountains, golden foothills

that fall to the sea.

The salt finds its way.

Ocean breezes flow overland

two thousand miles to roll down my face.