NASA Image of the Day

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Freezing Spray and Lemon Torte

The whoosh of wind had whipped the waves into neat froths, like a meringue torte amidst an ice of freezing gelati. She turned her collar up, shrugging her shoulders against the buffeting, as the spray and freezing mist bit into her face, and stung her ears.

She was not sure what made her look up at that instant. Until then she had been sauntering along the beach, unrestrained and unknown, really, aside from the haunting of the gulls, and the slight awkwardness to her gait, as the boots cut into the sand, making her "walk wobble plonk", in little indents, as she plodded along.

She did, now, though, stopping dead in her tracks.

He was standing about twenty feet away, hands jammed deep into his jacket, a wild flush high on his cheeks; the hair flopped about his head in an impossible shock of newly clipped decorum, failed.

"You're late", he growled at her, from somewhere very strange, deep within his chest cavity.

"I can't possibly be late; we haven't met yet", she shot back, setting her lips, and narrowing her eyes at him. She cocked her head to one side, giving him her twinkly cheeky look.

"Besides; you're much too nasty." She stood there.

"You look like a mad elf", he said, relenting.

"I am a mad elf", she said, simply. "It was very rude to sub in a dwarf, you know." He coughed, trying not to laugh.

"Come here,' he said, quietly.

"I'm not a dog", she said, sticking out her chin and glaring at him. And then, "You're quite cheeky for such a large, slightly bossy man".

He could see she had absolutely no fear of him at all, and blew out his breath, exasperatedly. "Especially since I made a point of shocking you back to yourself."

She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets, her cropped head
poking out of her turtleneck and canvas coat with a windswept defiance. "Mr. Snarky."

He did laugh, then, standing there, twenty feet away from her, feet planted in the sand, on a freezing Saturday afternoon of a New England beach - facing off against each other, really, both of them with their hands jammed into their pockets, like two very strange Marines.

"We're quite far away from each other, still", she blurted out, unnecessarily. "It's slightly awkward."

He was coughing, and trying to breathe. He wiped his eyes with one of his hands, and jammed it back into his pocket.

"Also" she continued, "then you called me like a dog. You're a rather odd man, aren't you, as far as first meetings go.....?" She still had a straight face. He was quite perplexed as to what to say next.

"Not until now", he blurted out, exasperated with his own reply.

"I have that effect sometimes; sorry", she said, cocking her head to the other side, and staring at him. "I took assertiveness training. You look cold."

"I hadn't really planned on a walk on a freezing beach, pre-tornado", he said, drily.

"It's rather nice, isn't it?', she sighed, cheerily. Her hair was stuck to her head, like a sort of flat brillo pad of wet growth. "I think my hair is stuck to my head", she said, describing what he was looking at, like a cartoonist, reading his mind.

"I was thinking it needed a towel," he said, quietly.

She sighed. He walked towards her, slowly.

"You're shorter than I thought", he said, stopping two feet away. She looked up at him, hands still jammed into her pockets.

"You look very aggravated. Are you annoyed with me?" She said the last part very softly. She hadn't moved an inch.

"No", he said. "Yes", he said. He put his hands around her face, stepping towards her, and moved his hand around her back, pulling her gently against him, as her hands came out of her pockets, and up and around his neck.

"You have to decide which one", she said, against his mouth, staring into his face.

He kissed her then, for what seemed a very long time....yet....not long enough, somehow.

Spring Save

The sunshine splash of sleeping bloom that is daft, and dill sill,
Waves, and the late spring frost is but a twinkle of surprised season, stalled
Yet awhile, in the twixt and tween of morning, and bloom.

Ah! It droops with sleep, but creeping lighted tendrils, coaxing
All the while, and...
Heads up!

Petals throw back their leaves, shaking encased cocoon away,
Light and Thee
Into the frond fond, and embrace, of