Martha's Vineyard Portrait #4
Wu-Style

I stand at the tide line,
face the sea,
let water lap my toes.
Behind me leftover summer people
set up tripods,
lay out supper on plaid blankets.
I breathe,
let light bathe my upturned face, 
begin.

Sand softens the shift 
between substantial and insubstantial.
I slow down.  Focus on the names.  

Diagonal flying

White crane flaps its wings

Grasp the sparrow's tail

Wind teases my hair free,
whips unruly strands across my face.
A girl squeals
when the water catches her,
dampens the hem of her dress.
Sea birds
take up her call.

Wave hands like clouds

Part the wild horse's mane

Carry tiger to the mountain

Repeat
Retreat 
Advance
My body shapes 
old patterns, becomes
the dancer and the dance.

White snake puts out its tongue

Golden cockerel stands on one leg

Repulse the monkey

The sun fades into haze.
Disappointed tourists pack their gear,
drain last dregs from plastic cups.
I breathe, bow as the sky softens
and the gulls dip their wings.