A Little Seascape

 

gold sea oats lack repercussions
dunes yield to chopping tropical

gut-punches

 

I choose broken whelks or conchs

where placid tides arrange punctured cockles

on mangrove twig stumps

 

the time it takes to decorate

each squishy wanna-be tree

is the time it takes to memorize

each percussive hole-in-one

historical highlight of my life

 

it seems as though 

I will never be finished

[RK, 10/3/2020]

 

 

Bedrock

 

why walk where water walks

when solid rock can soften

become a spongy hammock

for the wakeful one walking

[RK, 10/3/2020]

 

 

 

Yield

 

clouds, waves, terns, tiny shells click

horizontal water fail of calcium coins

 

eroded dunes, sea oats, damp rippled sand

photographers set up tripods

record Earth’s

two billion, seven hundred eighty-three million, five hundred nine thousand, four hundred and     twenty-third sunset

 

I’ve recorded my own requisite images

but the Gulf swallows the light

my wet canvas shoes navigate

mangrove fingers and soft, dry sand

mosquitoes and salt cling to the skin

 

getting to the parking lot on time

fulfilling another

perceived social contract

 

the darkness is always there

Earth’s two billion, seven hundred eighty-three million, five hundred nine thousand, four hundred and twenty-third night

receive or reject it

wrap it around you

swallow it

yield

[RK, 10/3/2020]