island time + ocean's poem

island time.

getting up early, catching the plane, flying across Europe, crossing the shoreline. seeing clouds from above. seeing all this water. and then: the island.

suddenly, this different rhythm.

time to read. time to be. time to walk along waves.

reading right now: Galapagos, by Kurt Vonnegut.

and: Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. with those lines, for the first island day:

Here are our thoughts, voyagers's thought
We feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion,
The tones of unseen mystery, the vague and vast suggestions of the briny world, the liquid- flowing syllables
The boundless vista and the horizon far and dim are all here, 
And this is ocean's poem...