With fishing skiffs dawn-departed
And the launching clamor over,
Stilled water now mirrors lemon-lime grasses
Beneath feathered clouds floating in a pastel sky
And a tranquil beauty unfolds.
Post Sunrise at Fancy Bluff Creek
Pilgrim’s Journey: Preface
At day-break
I head north on St George.
Tourists linger still in motels
So I walk unhindered
In the cool morning calm.
.
As if directed, my gaze shifts
From sunlit fronds
To a shaded area up ahead
Where the street bends to the west
And a vague whispered promise beckons.
Irony
For four hundred years and more,
These walls of time-compressed shells,
Designed to absorb English shot,
Excel now in reflecting sun’s early light.
Sun’s Sentinel
Hugging the shore of Matanzas Bay,
Old coquina walls, built facing east
To scour the inlet for enemy fleets,
Now lay deep in sleep each incoming day.
Photography Exhibition Announcement
A Question Regarding Prescience
Could they have possibly known
That precisely detailed walls
Enveloping shutters of crisp, cracked paint
Would have thrice-turn-in-passing appeal?
Shaken Faith
Two worlds in one place
Hold my gaze as I pass,
One world inside the glass,
And one world out.
I assume I am of the latter,
But saying that, questions arise.
Word Problem
The water in the canal below me runs clear,
Tasteful building colors reflect there well,
Small fish dart below the surface, and ducks glide above.
Were I to cross this bridge every day,
How long would it take, do you think,
Before I neglect to turn my head?
The Long Game
Per a deal with my parents,
I left the church at thirteen
After my first (and last) communion.
And yet, still, six decades later,
I enter each cathedral passed
To light two votive candles.
Kinderdijk Sunday
Surrounded by tools of his trade,
The fisherman readies his tackle
To angle for some respite.
