August Poetry Postcard fest, more! (Aug 17-19)

Three more written to postcards I bought on vacation, so no photos to go with. The Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay is one of my favorite places on this beautiful planet. My in-laws have retired to a little town in Maryland with a blinking traffic light and a population of watermen who still ply the bay for fish and crabs. We spent a week there and much of the time, I sat and contemplated the water. When I wasn't eating fresh peaches, sweet corn, and tomatoes.

August 17, 2008

Chesapeake Bay Bridge

Before steel spans disappeared
the distance between shores,
before the need to devour
time and space, carve scars
into the belly of the Bay, before
cities of corn and their tasseled sprawl,
the scuttle of blue crabs, the grace
of silence, the dance of dragonflies.


August 18, 2008

We are born to the pull
of tide, carry our own ocean
inside a landlocked island;
water our original language.
Before sleep, you murmur
my name in liquid syllables.
I answer in waves
sweeping across your shore.


August 19, 2008

Black-eyed susans unfurl
along State roads and gravel
paths, unconcerned about flags
or official proclamations.
Casual beauties, not jealous
of hot house tulips or prissy roses,
they volunteer for sentry duty
at the border of my garden.