As I walk the salt and pepper beach,
I must watch where I am going or I trip
in other peoples footprints.
Some are deeper than others,
some are just partials, a few toes,
the traces of a heel surrounded
by lighter, drier sand.
I imagine they might still be ours
from that day many months ago
when we ran screaming down the beach,
an array of patterned, silk scarves
streaming behind us, multi colored
sequined headbands tight across our foreheads.
I can still feel the light spray of the waterfall
from that day not so long ago
when we were nymphs skipping up
the mossy carpet of rocks,
scarves dipping lightly into water,
our blissful hands thrown to the air,
the spectacularly different shapes
of our half clothed bodies,
the smell of white ginger and fallen mango
mixing with water and earth.
It was raining peach rose petals
and every one of us was blooming.
- Iris Mary Moon