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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3588 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Into the Weather Carin A breath of autumn in the dog of the day; the October wind juxtaposed just under the August sun. The shadows blur into shade, ten feet tall and whistling, as pop-culture clouds rustle by: Warhol's whimsy over this can of soup. Fingers freeze in the salt spray, (for a luffing jib is no laughing matter) and a lucky bowline steadies the boom. Time seconds telltales; yarns spun in delicate spools of invisibility hold no reckoning for deadlines...or horizons. The land breeze bears the scent of harvest, the gulls offshore greet the flesh of substantial summer remains. And where else, but in this hollow harbor, can one look ashore towards haystacks and still expect to see the maize? |
