Dear Cordula,

These past few months have been so enchanting, so warming. I was an exiled poet, cast out of genre, disinherited by my blood and banished from a nest of brick and mortar. Then you materialized, like a warm breeze heated by the oceans of the Northeast, soft yet strong. I didn’t believe then and still don’t, that this temperate breath is to be mine and mine alone. You have braised many before me and will, I’m certain, continue to weather the storms in many a torrid heart to come. Weaving sultry patterns, seasonal shifts in your spirit move you onward in a current of lukewarm ocean patterns.

Enough of this self-pity, right now you are my Indian triggerfish of Madagascar, welcoming me into your Tropical waters, sharing your molluscs and echinoderms. My shimmering girl, I refuse to rule out the chances of never seeing you again.  When we have been apart in the early hours, I have been mournfully engaged in research. If I had a sweet potato pie, I would bet three large slices from four, that we meet again next year and probably the one after. I’ve been a fisherman for these last 20 years and for the last 10 have regarded a trend if you will…a reoccurrence. I have seen your reflection before, in the ocean, a few times in fact.

Always this time of the year, always the air inhales the chill and buffets a balmy puff in my sails.

I know we will swim concurrently once more my ocean nymph.

                                   Love and white wash,

                                                        Jack Caddis