A Poet's Journal: April 16th, 2015
Hiking yesterday along the coast; the water clear blue, turquoise in the shallows. It was warm, but the air felt of the frozen north. A man came up to us and talked of the particular formations of sandstone, of a deep orange or yellow and porous, some able to be climbed into as a shelter, others with the fossilized remains of ancient marine life. All along the trail are green prairies that fall deeply into the ocean and these, seen at a distance, seem to reflect the turquoise of the coves, contrasting with the dark limestone at the shore's edge, enough to think upon profound subjects and lose them in their eternity. The maritime pines were letting out their pollen with each slight gust of wind and on the way back we found a new growth of mint, taken for an evening tea.
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