Echoing a first line of a Jeffers poem.

September 28th, 2014, 4pm

It was 25.6°C with few clouds. There was moderate breeze.

The surf lay bare those stones as, last week, a swell of long periodicity arrived along the south shore, generated by a storm somewhere alee of the northern Antarctic, sweeping up towards Tahiti and hanging a sharp left to New Zealand and the antipodes.

We felt the reverberations of that distant meteorological upset in the form of wave pulses, each cycle a beat of 7, energy pushing aside and asunder sand, revealing those smoothened globules of lava and coral that, in the aggregate, is an instrument

of sound and organic music, its vibrations felt in the viscera, along the bottoms of one’s feet, the febrile palms of one’s hands. It is a glorious noise, a resonant revelation: that distant winds have crafted all of this through time, repetition, subtlety, and phenomenal, planetary scale.

Shu, David Wade and Christine said thanks.

Share this moment

Lloyd Nebres

I lived in a village and homestead set aside for people of Hawaiian ancestry. I am not Hawaiian but had been adopted into the culture—to my profound gratitude.

Create a free account

Have an account? Sign in.

Sign up with Facebook