whale migration (alt: the art of the serviceberry)
- 19 hours ago
- 1 min read
the whales are returning south
they are coming home, in a sense
after escaping out of a cold and burdensome winter
they are returning to warmer waters
coming into themselves
i watch them play as they travel south
it brings wetness to my cheeks
thinking how they too play and feel and change with the seasons
i am also traveling south, down the coast
so far they have been everywhere with me
i sit and watch, being bathed in peace
it is a baptism of sorts
and i feel an extreme oneness envelop me
writing feels pedantic and flamboyant
but how else to transmute these emotions into another’s being
and what, if anything,
is there to do other than breathe sacrament into the mundane and the extraordinary
art is an homage, a prayer of reciprocity
to the moments of one’s daily life





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