other bits of blog

Saturday, February 27, 2010


All this snow is still freaking me out. We had a snow day on Wednesday, and yesterday the roads were pretty bad. Plus, it's late winter. In the Berkshires. Yuck! Late winter's just cold and wet and muddy and brown and slushy and slimy and—you get the idea.
But sometimes it's still beautiful, don't you think?

I do.
And I also think that it's time to take a vacation. But since that's not happening, let's imagine.
You're in Puerto Rico, on a beach covered in velvety sand. The perfectly turquoise water seems to stretch out for miles and miles on the horizon. The day is hot, but not stifling, just right. In your bathing suit, you lie on a towel under an umbrella, reading a wonderful book. You close the book, and let the warmth wash over you. Your eyes suddenly feel very heavy, and you drift off into a pleasant dream.
When you awake, the sun is setting in the distance. You slip on your sunglasses and watch it, marveling at the fuchsia and pepper-orange and golden-blue. You walk down to the beach, with your bare feet buried in the soft sand. As you reach the ocean, you have a sudden urge to dive in. You take off your sunglasses and dip your feet into the warm ocean. The water laps at your ankles, and you take a deep breath of comfort.
Suddenly, a submarine surfaces from the depths of the water, and the top opens. You step inside, and it steers itself away into the dark liquid. At first it is to dark to see by, but your eyes adjust and you finally see the wonders of the water, the reefs and fish and swaying seaweed. You sit down in a soft chair and settle into the steady rhythm of the sea.

Down, down, down
So far below the shining surface
Of glistening waves
But waves glisten here
They freeze and glide and twist and twirl
My hand presses on the window
Making a mark
My breath fogs up the glass
And I stare
I stare at crabs
Spider-like crabs
Larger than myself
Waving, moving red pillars
Swish across my path
Like worms in dirt they twist
And seem to have no body
They seem to be empty, floating
My eyes lock on these strange creatures
And I feel warmth
A rush, a great burst
Of hot water
I look below the vessel
That carries me
Splits the Earth
Far below the surface of our world
Are revealed
Through these cracks
Hot, steaming liquid pours
From below the crust
Warming the oceans
Making life
Possible even when it is below ground
Where freezing water
Flows and meets
With steaming air
To make this underwater
Museum of every kind of organism
You can imagine
And more
Diving down
My darting, hazel eyes
See ridges
Like the seam of a baseball
Curving and twisting
Hundreds of meters below
Lie mountain ranges
Even larger than those
Above the surface
Sonar pings catch my attention
I pull away from the glass
But turn to catch one glimpse
Of this wonder
This growing, changing wonder
And we fly to the surface
We fly

And even though this has nothing to do with anything, happy birthday, Rosie, my dear. Happy birthday to my five-year-old.


  1. thank you....

    i wrote that one for school when we had to write something about going under the sea in the alvin sub, and we could write anything, song, poem, story, report, and i chose poem, obviously.

  2. BTW, you now have another follower!

  3. Hi Maia! I've made some blog buttons for you to choose from.... go to http://thelandofanarane.blogspot.com to pick which one you like best. I hope you like them!

    In Christ,

  4. hey Maia i luv your blog everything is so beautiful and relaxing. can you follow my blog?

  5. emily- thank you SO much!!!!

    hannah- thanks, too! i would follow your blog, but i dont know the url, what is it???