no beehive hut for you
on the abstract sands of Malibu-
Remembering Malibu - Seamus Heaney, Station Island
The Pacific Ocean traces a line around my life. I have crossed it many times, in all directions, gazed over it and sometimes thought I would drown in it. I have come to know it with its swirled and salty southern warmth. Its sudden eruptions that cake old maps with new mud and its uneven temperament that can howl above a tempest.
It is now nearby but hidden by hills. Its quiet mystery comes in with the morning fog and fades in the early afternoon sun. Stories trickle out in unknown languages from an unseen capital city. There are no books in its lost library.