by Carolin Messier
Lying under the steep-pitched roof
of a borrowed cabin
Dozing in half-sleep hours after
my normal rise
The sounds of birdsong is a gentle comfort.
Awakening to slowed-down island time
away from the city
Warmed alone by a strangers quilt
in a bed without history
The lapping waves of changing tides caress.
Opening my eyes to soft-grey sunshine
through an attic window
The thought of coffee freshly-brewed
and yogurt in a bowl
Are enough to draw me into the day
To play fetch with the eager dog
Walk along the stony shore
Collect treasures of sea glass
driftwood and shells
Pick wild salmon berries
Pluck native salal blossoms as earrings
Find robin egg shells along the trail
and laughter and tears
with an old friend.
In loss and in life
comfort is often enough.