Recipe

The beach at Alligator Point
wind swept and empty, tide out.
No birds, sea shells or dunes
since the last hurricane carried them away.

It is here we come – the dog and I – 
he to run free, cavort in winter icy surf;
I to feel the wind puff out my parka,
whip through my hair, lift me

off my feet, light as Dorothy.
Forgotten, the detritus of my life – 
blown out to sea.  All that remains
a distant haze and the dog

romping close, encouraging me to join his dance,
live in the present, or as Ingrid Bergman said,
“Happiness is good health and a bad memory.”
if the dog is not convincing enough.