In Motion

004The constant wind off the bay,

At low tide,

Brings whitecaps under

The long curving dock.


The princess saint of the rocks


her golden hair with purple ends

flows down over her mermaid colored shirt

Iridescent in the muted sun

What does she perceive in the shadows

Of the persistent waves?


Gulls hang from their still stiff wings

Gliding in all directions.


My restless legs break my heart

With each step.

This entry was posted in capturing light, poetry, Walking and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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