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Tracie Skarbo was motivated to write by her father, who was her biggest supporter. “He was always behind me, rallying me on with my writing. I would always see him with a book in hand. He gave me a great appreciation for the written word, and the power and responsibility that writers have to shape those who read their words. He also taught me to respect nature and to value the beauty within it; my reflections on my environment are just an extension of this.” Skarbo was raised on Vancouver Island and is working on her next two books.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Homeward Bound

My run three quarters finished
I veer to the left and
Down the hill to the beach

I traverse over virgin sand
Breathing the gusty
Briney air
Guilty of my footsteps
Marring the beauty
Of the landscape

I look for evidence on
Beached logs
Carvings of lovers past
But they too are smooth
And without mark

The rollers
White and frothy
Contrast dark grey
And the mainland
On the horizon
They reach for my toes
With mirrored reflections
I smile my greeting

The heaven’s showers
And the downpour soaks
Me within seconds
I am overwhelmed
With joy of being alive

I turn and run back
And see I am no
Longer alone
A small old lady
Has decided
To brave the weather
With her two small dogs

She walks slowly
Picking things up
From the sand
Now and again

She has a kind face,
And when I raise my hand
And smile my hello
Her smile makes me wonder
If she is a Bodhisattva
In disguise

I continue on my way
Up the steep hill
Homeward bound

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