nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Saltwater Slow
I left my phone in the house and found hours hidden in the tide— days unfolding like seafoam, soft and slow, like they knew I needed more time. We floated in still water, the kind that doesn’t just cool your skin but soaks into something deeper— into the weight you didn’t know you were carrying. The sandbar was our table, saltwater our wine, and laughter spilled from our lips like we were made for this kind of living. The neighbors waved like old friends. The shop owners smiled like they’d been waiting for us to slow down and notice the way the sun melts into the Gulf like butter. No pings. No scrolls. No comparisons. Just water, and sky, and family. And the kind of peace you don’t find in air conditioning. It was the weekend that felt like a week— the kind that stretches when you’re fully present, when your only schedule is the rhythm of the waves. I finally understood the hype— why people trade their clocks for hammocks, their high-rises for herons, and their stress for this slow, golden rhythm called the Keys.
By Carolina Borgesabout a year ago in Poets
