Harvest

Shoulders burning from effort
Jacob heaved the wiry net
From the brooding ocean
Each pull elicited a roar
Less from exertion than sorrow
Difficult dreams of Solange
Left him marching hungover through the dawn
Down to the shore, and work
Praying the sea would wash his memory clear
An hour in and no relief
Forcibly he brought Marjorie and Nicholas to mind.

A final tow as the sun rose
Overhead the net sailed
Generally laden with ore and life
The indigo shells of the mollusks
Landing with a baritone thud
On the dense, wet sand
Today there was only the brisk slap
Of empty webbing high on the dry beach
Jacob awoke to where he stood
To his left and right, fellow harvesters standing
Struck with equal confusion
Horror having not yet set in

Flight

She stopped at the edge of the forest
Which fell sharply into the sea
Below she saw the faint rush
Of shimmering color
Their light, high voices
Rising through the waves and up
To the trees where she stood
Inhaling the salt air
Her hands spread wide
She fingered the tender pines at her side
And jumped