Branches paint clouds;
Roots dig deep, deep, deep down
To a strong bedrock foundation
Resting at sea’s edge.
This lone tree is the threshold
Between two realms:
The earthly one where I stand;
The diaphanous one where the spirits wait.
I hear them …
The waves crashing against rock,
A seagull’s cry,
The wind lamenting in my hair.
Once the sun returns to salty womb,
The portal will slowly open
And the dead will dance with the living
Until first light.