bursts of orange

The colours press against my ears. A swooshing like the sea in a sea shell, A whooping like wind on an open plane. Making my mouth fill with sand, My head with tumble weed and cotton fuzz. A sea shell sea waving against a windy sea.   Windy plains blowing tumble weed and cotton fuzz against tinkling chimes on wooden beams. Chimes tinkling in the sun Powdering the air with silver specks.   Powder specks that bedazzle the sand. Tinkling specks, Caught in the whooping wind Swept into the swooshing sea.

A sand dollar. Delicate, see through, Fairy glass.   A token for the wanderer. A nik nak of places Of people well met. Gently placed into her purse Another dollar, another story. In a gladdening postcard tucked into a memory box rattling with buttons and bits of string   stuffed in a sock drawer. Another story All over captioned loose leaf enveloped in expensive embossed paper Crinkling with dried lilacs picked from between cracked rock.   Another story   Into static lines beeping interruptions across continents of humanity tangled in wireless cords of lost love. Another story Squatting at a camp fire of peers holding out sculptures of crawling flying running swimming totems. She holds her purse   Her sand dollars Her stories. Fragments of a looking glass from her souls reef.