the children wait upon the shore
eyes fastened to the horizon
behind them stand the women
with a gaze far more serious
all impervious to rain and wind
the hurricane had turned inland
last night it was moving north to Baja
the fishermen left with ease
it would soon be gone
yet, early in the morning it moved east to Nayarit
chaotic nature, in the end, reigns supreme, it always has
in the distance dots appear, fishermen driven home
as the storm rages over them

children and women frantically search 
the returning pongas for any familiarity
as the fishermen struggle valiantly in the waves
tonight some prayers are bearing fruition
while others were lost to an angry sea
a storm none could predict
nor ever will with certainty
the candles burn at the feet of the dead
now plaster saints, imploring continues 
long into the night, a chance of perchance
that bird that sings in the worst gale

morning brings the tolling of church bells
amidst the devastation
faces who will never forget that chaos
has no favorites
only illusions, as matter may well be, Berkeley rocks
the luck of the draw, despite Darwins' wishful design
the ensuing fluctuating schemes of pandemonium
desultory forces who at best are deficit in reason
or are they, who knows the breath of creation
a constant reminder the precarious hold life has
how delicate the day we the biota share
how precious life is

i learned that long ago from a little tippler
leaning on a dying sun
toasting with manzanilla the heavens above
cursing some matelot beneath her labored breath
now the nobody we all are when the light extinguishes
receding within into singularity
and whatever wormhole we exit will never matter
nor the dimensions therein
gone, as the smoke from an extinguished candle
escaping forever into entropy
where matter never perishes


         Fergus Falls   96