courtesy driftwoodshores.com
for my son, far from home
Tides rise and fall, flow through
our western view opened wide
with windows that picture the moving
panorama of light, water, grass.
Floating hypnotically within
a mobile of driftwood assembled
on the eve of your departure for
college, memories of all the growing up
summers of sand and sea where you mooned
the waves, dripped castles and dug
after squirming crabs. All these gathered
gray shapes of memory float and turn,
reverse, revolve, never-ending tales of sea and time
like our beach bereft now of dunes, seasons
having carved new inland walls from sand,
rootless and undefended as the mobile.
How we circle, float, drift, return
tethered from one single thread
that moors us fast with love and grace
to our beginning sense of place.
– swb
sarahscapes 
I love how you strung those words together!
“How we circle, float, drift, return
tethered from one single thread
that moors us fast with love and grace
to our beginning sense of place.”
Perfect ending 🙂
Thanks much for your lovely comments, Sara. I appreciate your sharing the lines that spoke so strongly to you!
Thank you, Mom, for being part of both the thread and my beginning sense of place
XOXO
it’s big when a child leaves home! best wishes
Thanks, Esther. They’ve all left the nest by now; but the memory(ies) cling as if brand new!!