Firebird Island

(Image from TripAdvisor)

There is a smell of coffee
Deep within the sands
Among the flush of waves
And cool sea breezes
On the side of the ocean
That turbulence rarely touches

No one knows its source
The deep earthy scent
But called Coffee Beach nonetheless
It is sunny by midday
And obscured at night
Coffee intoxicating
But shy to the open sky

The birds are ruby red
They flit on the sand
To lay gem eggs
And they go in the nighttime
On the sea breezes for long lost islands
Below the moon and higher than the stars

The tourists joke
They find nothing in what they see
The business sell the salt water
Claiming of the health benefits
Of coffee water
Some drink it
And sicken

Most days the fragrance is weak
As if it dislikes the heat of the sun
That calls pounding tourists
To retreat internal batteries by:
Heckling the redbirds
Tromping upon the perfect gem eggs within the sand
Littering and waiting to burn their bodies black
Spitting sand
Looking only at the nose in their faces
Or the transiency of bitter happiness
And going out much too far where they drown
Unable to see “redbird island”

Missing the guiding scent of coffee
The tortured call of redbirds warning of danger

— — -

It is always gray
In the morning before someone turns on the sun
And off turns the clouds
Standing on what could be
The very edge of the world
Nose invisible to the cosmos

Redbirds fly through phantasm
Only to return each day
Wings are firelight, beaks pure gold
Returning what is lost
The name of every spirit
Sung into the stars
One distant isles and islands
Swimming too close to ignore
Till sunrise when redbirds alight
The beach does not remember


Coffee wafts through the mists
The earthy scent of something
Impossible to forget
Impassible as the sea
Crying with the redbirds
Nest trampled in the sand
Returning each time to find
Coffee faint cool sea breezes

It does not shun me in the morning
In the night
I watch the redbirds fly from the ocean
One thing calling
Barely gems of eggs
Unseen beyond the nose
Except by some

Coffee extracting
Chicks waddle to the sea
When red leaves fall
And unknowing spirits gather
Clouds finally here to hide sun
And sing to fires in the sky

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.