Merry, Merry from Lover’s Key

Lover’s Key State Park, Bonita Springs, FL

Temporarily suspend the laws of reality. ~Craig Hordlow, “These Dreams”

“‛Oh my,’ said the woman sitting on a large dry platform contemplating her impending and near-violent plunge into a vast ocean of tumbling wetness,” writes the writer prone to metaphorically-driven lines.

For she’s penning a fairy tale about a water sprite or a mermaid or a woman immersed in intimacies with her lover, their dew. How she shines, merry, merry, writing:

“She became carnally known by Neptune; she became Poseidon’s consort and bore their labyrinthine and abyssal wisdoms from the seas to her Muse’s many shores.” Myth entwines with fable as this story roils.

Something legendary is about to happen. A tidal shift.  A cosmic ripple. Stay tuned for the tempest and boil of hurricane rivers.  Two primordial souls are flowing toward destiny’s compatible estuary into this fated manatee-zone embrace of safety.  No benthic monster there. Nor anywhere.

For this is a tale without a foe. There is such a thing as a plot without a devil, a songline’s arc sans discordant measures. And, oh so briefly, the writer sets aside our horribly wasteful thirst for H²0, etc. to imagine how the merry, merry spirit embues a simple man, a simple woman—a Muse? A mermaid?—to taste salt on both their skins, each other’s currents conjoined.

Oh, joy.

Oh, joy.

Oh, joy.

Amen. Le fin. For now.