adult ballet at the beach

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A post-storm choreographic masterpiece

The storm has passed, and in her wake she has left destruction, but also a great sense of humanity. Strewn all over my yard are the bright Key limes from Carla’s tree, beautiful crimson red magnolia seeds from next door, broken peanut shells from a squirrel feeder, shriviled iris and hibiscus blooms, shards of broken pottery, wood planks from a torn porch, dissolved sandbags, and a random, sad, little wind chime – all tossed together with salt-marsh grass and mud. A strange Waldorf salad of then and now, sitting here, starting to smell of a salty, damp decay. But, from out of hot houses, not vibrating with TV screens or kitchen lights, or even percolators, come the helping hands of good


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