When I was young I imagined my old age as punctuated by long walks through the village with my wife. We’d talk quietly or not at all. As it turns out I do take walks by myself everyday. Unwilling to hire a car I carry my shopping in a tote and on the return trip from the shops I visit the cove. I’m getting to know the birds who live in the water. I ponder Merleau-Ponty’s
point that water is like flesh and radiates beyond the world: even the Atlantic Ocean doesn’t contain the water we say is “in” it. So much to think about!
The cormorant hangs
ten on the platform, wings dry
and ready to plunge.