The Blanket

There was nothing special
Or fancy about that old blanket.

I had purchased it years ago,
Not really sure why,
But it just seemed like
The right thing to do at the time.

And now tonight,
On a cool fall evening,
We sat on the beach,
Witness to a glorious bonfire,
And the majesty of a crystal clear,
Starlit night.

The new crescent Moon
Expressed itself with
The cutting precision
Of a perfect creation.

Castor and Pollux,
And so many other celestial beauties
Filled our eyes with awe.

The surf, gentle
Yet strong enough
To establish its presence,
Provided a comforting,
Continuous beat,
As wave met beach.

So on the cool sand
On this cool night,
Enrobed by the sound of surf,
And the totality of the heavens,
We wrapped ourselves in that blanket…

Two bodies, joined in that moment,

Knowing that this intimacy,
And warmth,

All became possible,

All became personal,

All became perfect,

By the seclusion,
And total,

Wrapped in the darkness of this night,
And sanctuary,

Of that blanket.


© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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