I think of the cove
as the horizon of my
wandering. The float
where cormorants dry-
out between dives. The rest of
their lives so other.
No float today. A
buoy and a passing duck and
me shapeless, restless.
NEAR PROVIDENCE 10/19/20
I think of the cove
as the horizon of my
wandering. The float
where cormorants dry-
out between dives. The rest of
their lives so other.
No float today. A
buoy and a passing duck and
me shapeless, restless.
Metaxyturn Diaries 
Those lines bring the scene to vividly to life, Tom, and leave something in the mind that is unsettling. Fine lines, doing what poetry does at its best. Bravo I say.
LikeLike