North Beach

And how you’ve come to stand on this brink,
Dreams of another life stuffed into that pillowcase
as best you could gather them

Resolved to shake them free into the ever-rising wind,
And watch them fall, and be carried away by the sea below,
Yet uncertain whether you would follow

[Inspired by some amazing poetry at the Copper Canyon Press open house last night. Yeah, I used to write poetry. And no, don’t worry: it’s metaphor — I’m in no danger of ill-advised plummets or other rash decisions. Most directly, I suppose, just reflecting on my ambivalence about having left the Antarctic Program…]