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.
Renewal After such a long winter, You’re welcome here, spring. But before giving way to summer, Please bring your spring to my step And refill my eyes with your wonder.
Kinderdijk Shift Storm is passing – Quieted clouds Windmill’s reflected – Quieted waters Rotor blades are stilled – Quieted winds I am here watching – Quieted mind
Nonstick Notions Two small shrimpers, aging yet able, Secured for repairs toward the end of the dock, Spark brief fancies of high sea daring do In passerby who’ll never try to depart.
Morning Respite on the San Sebastian River Returned from their night run With outriggers high, The catch unloaded, And their crews scattered wide, Shrimp boats rest easy, Mirrored in the still waters.
Aficionada at Georgie’s Diner in the Time of Plague She arrives deliberately early, Predawn darkness, doors now unlocking. Social-distancing conscious And middle-counter blocking, She studies the specials, Her eyes slow-list descending; Hidden under her breath, tasteful recitations Savoring intimations Of the more fulfilling respites.