Pigeon In The Rain

Connecting in a coffee shop with my son,

Conversation good, gradually climbing better.

Rains and thunder, choking out the sun,

Awe, so tranquil, fetters feeling none.

 

Calm disrupted viewing through the window

Pigeon on a power line drenched on a perch.

No cover ever sought, no oak no willow,

Safety's at his spot, his place, for this fellow.

 

Watching that pigeon, sipping my coffee

Epiphany transcended to the power of that spot.

For in a storm fly do I for a tree,

But fly to my power line, my shop of coffee.

 

This spot I claim my sacred place, my peaceful shrine

For when storms swirl around, feelings become enslave,

I am a man in his coffee shop, a bird on a power line,


Brother with a pigeon, spirit of the divine.

Birney the Sea Crusted Old Seagull

The wind was blowing slightly and the sand was working its way through my toes, as I slowly walked from the boardwalk to the beach. This time of my life was filled with more stress than enjoyment and my family suggested that a trip to the beach by myself might be a source of release. They knew how much the sound of the waves brought comfort to my nerves.

Drugs and alcohol were never habits I placed much faith in for relieving built-up stress. I was never lucky at gambling, and never acquired enough interest in anything to create a hobby. Only the sound of the waves ever brought relaxation and calm.

My parents vacationed every summer at the beach during my youth. Although I never had any siblings and never brought any friends, loneliness never entered my heart. Between my parents and meeting kids my own age vacationing, I never yearned for a playmate. Yet, some of the most fulfilling times I ever had were alone, playing in the sand with the moon and the sun creating a symphony of waves. I was never more content and happy in my life than when I could hear the crashing of the waves.

My parents had grown too old to travel, my kids were never at home, and with a business of my own now, trips to the beach had become a rarity. Instead of live sounds of waves from the ocean, I had substituted them with CD’s and downloads from the internet. I played them mostly at night so I could fall asleep. Although the CD’s and downloads were alright, dozing off at night and waking up in the morning to the real sound of waves from the ocean always had a calming and energizing effect.

I arrived to my condo on the beach late Thursday night. I left from work, caught the downtown traffic in the city, and then drove another four hours to my destination. Although to some that seems like a lot of driving and a lot of trouble for a weekend trip to the beach, I was motivated.

The pressure had become so bad lately that my family had an intervention-type talk, convincingly pleading for me to take some time off from everything in an effort to resurrect their husband and father back. So, I heeded the call.

The first few hours were spent adjusting to letting everything go and focusing on relaxation. Unwinding is what it’s called, I hear. Finally, after around seven hours, everything drained away; all meetings, contacts, conversations, and business deals drifted out of my head. I was officially decompressed. The drain clouds had evaporated and that’s when I noticed the beach and the sand, and the waves for the first time.

Sipping on a peach flavored wine cooler, I worked my way to the water’s edge. Once there, I arched my back and let the wind pass over me. The wind softly caressed my flesh while the waves hypnotized my soul. The ocean had seduced my mental capacities and mesmerized my senses. Slowly bringing myself forward, I stared out as far as I could see where ships were legend-ed to drop off the edge of the ocean. Then I brought my vision back and to the left of the beach. That’s when I thought I was experiencing deja vu.  

I thought I saw Birney the seagull. Who is Birney the seagull? He was a seagull who I had seen when I was a kid while vacationing with my parents. He was a seagull fuller than most seagulls, rippled with brown coloring and having only one eye. I named him Birney because of the burnt appearance the brown coloring conferred.

On that trip as a kid, Birney came up to me after I threw some of my tuna fish sandwich his way. For that whole week, I would meet him every day at the same time. The experience was so amazing that I woke up early every morning making a sandwich to hide from my parents to feed him.

Here again was a full bodied seagull with brown coloring rippled through his body with one eye. Instead of tuna fish though, I had a ham and cheese sandwich. Pinching a tad from the corner of the sandwich, I threw him a nibble. Squawking and raising his beak high in the air, he caught the tidbit gulping the nibble down exposing his out stretched neck. Squawking again, he shook his head back and forth quickly signaling in seagull, he liked the sandwich and wanted some more.

I smiled. Looking at Birney, or definitely his distant cousin, brought me back to my childhood. Memories began flooding my mind. My parents came to mind first. I remembered my parents, and how they use to dress back then. My mom wearing those big hats with the different colored scarfs tied around them, keeping the sun from burning her skin and the wind from messing up the hairdo she got just before we left for the beach. I never did understand why she got her hair done knowing how the beach was so windy.

My dad wore plaid shorts with a blue and white belt looped through and an open collar shirt that was a mix between a Hawaiian shirt and a shirt you’d wear to the office. And if that wasn’t colorful enough, he would complete the ensemble with his white shiny patent leather shoes and dark socks that went just above his ankles. For his protection against the sun he’d have on a plain hat and some kind of white junk he’d smear on his nose.

I also thought about the different friends I use to make on the beach. Most of the time the kids that would become friends had no siblings either or they were the last and youngest kid of their parents. Back then, there was always two parents, as divorce was not as common. Sometimes though I would make friends with two brothers or a sister and a brother. Out of all the ones I met, my favorite was a boy whose name was Ramin. He had a little bit of an accent, and spoke English formally as if learning from a book instead of growing up learning from his parents. I met him early on the trip and we became immediate friends. Both of our families were there for the whole week. We spent much of each day together playing chase, hunting for sea shells, and even playing a basketball game to 100 by 1’s. He won by two, but it was so much fun I didn’t care who won. I tried to keep up with him until I received my last letter back with a stamp that stated in red, “No Forwarding Address.”

Amazing how an old crusty one eyed bird can send you back in time. Really shows how hectic life had become. I never stop and think about my past. If I slowed my life down and looked around I bet there are many things that would remind me of how good life has been and still is.

As I try and take a sip of my wine cooler, I notice it’s not cold any more. I told you I’m not much of a drinker. I also realize that I had been sitting a long time thinking of good thoughts. I realize my need to take time and do that more often. I am truly blessed. I have a wonderful wife of many years, wonderful children who bring me nothing but pleasure, a good job, and comfortable means.

Peace this time was not obtained from the waves I so love, but the sight of a sea crusted old seagull with one eye who possessed the power to open the grains of my childhood memories. Until I see you again, I just want to say thanks, Birney.