Two of our kids gave us a unique gift some number of Christmases ago, a tide clock made of polished stone. It took us a year or more to get the clock to the island, then another year or more to finally set it in motion. It’s supposed to be activated (battery goes in) at high tide during a full moon. We’re not here often enough to have arranged that particular lineup of elements sooner, that magic spell of ingredients that sound like they could summon up the dead or awaken werewolves.
It was a werewolfy night last night – brilliant full moon over a restless sea. Jonathan and I ventured out to Black Rock and sat on the still sun-warm ledge to take in the view of the weirdly illuminated night sky. The full moon exerts forces on us. I feel them, though I can’t clearly define them. Summer air, moonlight, the rush and retreat of waves over cobbled shores…a stirring potion of magic and mystery.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 343: 166 words, TOTAL = 56,552; 3,448 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.