Deltina Hay

she glides over the rocky terrain
the chatter of gulls cheering her on
feathery shadows pass over her skin
a brush of reassurance
from her silent, ubiquitous guides

her bare feet land cautiously upon the rocks
rocks that harbor the cold bite of the sea
resisting the warmth of the morning sun
she knows they are kindred

her momentum builds
“one, two, three, four”
land lightly
she thinks
spring quickly
spend no more time in any one place than is necessary

she fills her lungs
with the smell of drying seaweed and jellyfish
exposed by the receding tide
watches ribbon worms and sand fleas scurry for cover
while young, downy gulls sit satiated

her feet numb from the cold
lend her speed
a pounding upon already battered flesh has little impact
“five, six, seven, eight”

she knows there is no time for fear
or distraction
“nine…”
the scabs on her knees attest to that
“when added to any number preserves the sum of its digits”

her feet burn as the sun forces them to life
feelings,
she thinks
prime example of the need for concentration
“one, two, three, five, seven”

she is always three rocks ahead
for knowing her place is imperative
“eleven, thirteen, seventeen”

calculating her place before she arrives
she will know just how long to stay
“nineteen, twenty-three…”
how badly it will sting when she gets there
“pairs of chromosomes in the human body”
and how swiftly to leave it behind

each leap must build off the strength of the last
to master complete control
she thinks
“one, one, two, three…”
she soars over the ragged coast
her feet barely touching the rocks
“five, eight, thirteen”

as she continues to gain speed
she spots her inevitable failure ahead
an unavoidable patch of algae covered rocks

“twenty-one, thirty-five, fifty-siiiiix…”
with a last minute twist
she kicks off the algae
and lands on a sandy patch of beach
the gulls scatter and curse her for interrupting their feast

perhaps a more even approach
will yield fewer bruises
she thinks
and starts again
“two, four, six…”

© Copyright Deltina Hay, 2011