Midcoast and the harbor
Yields nature blue gray
Mossed with foam, shell
And the cedars' singularity
Inches stubborn fingers.
No roadway horn or neon blink
Echo, but gulls and crows
Here where footprints neither
Own the rock nor keep the sand,
My face is lifted to a breeze
Entering the pines, bending me.
Share the love
Report a Bug
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