Here along the edge of the Delaware, inverted reflections of Olympia and Moshulu get transformed in this basin. Suggestions of past and future lurk there too.
A broken edge, where anglers probe, where finny things feed, and treasures may
await discovery . . . along with other surprises, be they finny, spiny, toothy, and slimy.
Trailing edge of continent or leading edge of ocean, or both, extend without clear definition, like the
undefinable edge of the moment, where commingling happens and life renews or metamorphoses.
What’s visible today wasn’t yesterday or won’t be tomorrow; when new vistas appear, they surprise us with
unexpected edges of propinquity.
Edge of darkness, chaos, or creation . . .
and then not, if
you brave the edge of dawn, of wonder, and find the way to your conveyance. Some edges suffice for one environment, whereas
another more buffered suit another.
This single exposure . . . . of bowsprite’s not-for-navigation chart above my desk drew me into the edge of unreality thanks to the apparition of a curvedness of mermaids speaking to a diver.
Edge of another year . . . season.
A thought from Anne Morrow Lindberg about some of the edges above: “The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.”
A cold day’s sizzling thought from Molly M: “I respect boundaries,” she said, “vigilantly. And I love to play right up to the edge of them, see how close I can get.” She smiled, slyly, like one who could never drown. Edges. Places where one thing stops being itself and becomes something else. Places where one thing washes over another and changes it. Edges, where you can fall over, tumble in, be washed away. Hard edges that cut. Soft edges that overlap and enfold. Permeable boundaries that let me flow into you and let you flow into me. Impenetrable borders that keep us apart.”
Unrelated: If you haven’t been keeping up with Issuma, click here for some recent snowy fotos.
6 comments
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December 16, 2010 at 7:42 pm
JED
Who was cavorting in the sea foam?
December 16, 2010 at 11:31 pm
bowsprite
really! what noive! distoibing poifectly good spume. 😀
December 17, 2010 at 7:52 am
Rick
I must have winter on the brain. I immediately took the sea foam for snow and started shivering when I saw the naked legs. I need another cup of coffee.
December 17, 2010 at 12:36 pm
Joe Herbert
Cold Waters
To the edge!
Press forward expectantly,
The froth doth rise to awaken thee,
Press thee forward more?
December 17, 2010 at 1:35 pm
JED
Ahhhhh, Bowspritage – Mais bien sûr!
December 17, 2010 at 1:51 pm
Mage Bailey
Lovely bones, edges, forms, delineations. You bring a smile to my face and remind me not to form expectations. No time for those this coming week of going beyond the edges.
Have a lovely holiday…..all.