The Music of the Reef

The Music of the Reef

I thought it would be quiet lying there on the sand,
two hundred yards offshore and ninety feet
underwater. I assumed it would be silent except for
the rhythm of my breath. Once I settled
motionless on the bottom, the mechanical click-
whoosh-gurgle of my breathing receded and the
music of the reef swelled. Around me I heard the
click-whirr of my dive partner’s camera, the pop of
tiny shrimp claws snapping to subdue prey, the
crunch of parrotfish eating coral. A rhythmic chiming
captured my attention. Nothing I saw moved in
concert with it. One glance at the surface gave me
the answer. The music matched the march of the
ocean swells. All that distance from shore, so far
beneath the surface, I heard the enchanting melody
made by broken pieces of coral rolling in the surf--
ocean chimes tinkling like glass in the breeze.

Faulty Thinking

Faulty Thinking

The fault line…
where the Earth cracks,
where continental plates
grind, rub, slip, climb, and sink,
mountains and canyons are born,
insurmountable barriers are created,
chasms plunge beyond imagining.

The fault line…
blame is placed, fingers point
teeth grind, hands clench,
whose fault is it?
Yours? Do you admit it?
Where do you draw the line
at someone else’s faults?

Don’t draw it too deep,
you might
fall
in.

--Barbara Malcolm

Foot Loose

Foot Loose

Single shoes
(sandals mostly) washed ashore
by waves born off Africa’s coast.

The waves gather the orphans
floating in the Atlantic
(pink, black, used-to-be-white)
collected by some sympathetic
hand, lined up in a diminishing
row of abandoned little soles.

Where are their mates?
And what happened to that naked foot?
Was there another pair to replace the lost?
I imagine a forlorn face looking
at the orphan sandal
sadly consigning it to a burial at sea.

--Barbara Malcolm

Five Spring Haiku

Near the path, yellow
ladyslipper orchids await
Cinderella's step

~~~~~

Paths through birch trees
luring eager supplicants
to discovery

~~~~~

Striped chipmunks race
cheek pouches filled with seeds
dreams of winter cold

~~~~~

Mossy rocks under
dappled shade shelter hidden
gnome universes

~~~~~

Cedar cloaks the limestone
leaf coins dance in breezes
Clearing souls

--Barbara Malcolm

Sensory Overload

Sensory Overload

Standing on the rocky sandy shore
littered with bleached coral rubble and black stone
the salty tangy dead-fishy iodine
scent of the sea calls me

Whirls of foamy wave bottoms
breached by a few fin kicks to reveal
the Salvador Dali-designed riot
that is the reef
turquoise yellow red orange
flashing silver of the baracuda

Silky seawater
pours over my skin with
every kick

Azure vase sponges illuminate
shrimp tenants
Orange elephant ear sponges
embrace coral heads
Schooling wrasse play
stands of purple tube sponges like a pipe organ

Gravity sleeps as I drift
in every dimension
soaring like a seabird on thermals

--Barbara Malcolm

Forest Star

Forest Star


Nestled there
in your sawdust crib
tucked ‘tween slabs
of Niagara stone,

dreaming of grandeur,
of sheltering birds,
of scampering squirrels
tickling your sides.

Five slender arms
held proud, outstretched,
not reef-bound & hidden
like your salty sister.

Hold strong, little white pine,
hold strong--
one day you’ll
catch the clouds.

--Barbara Malcolm