Two Sides of the Bank: James City and Surry

Its sand dots the other

side, sways so close I see the sine

waves of pine branches in sunset.

A solitary spot of red signals

for sails and motors alike, though

solely seagulls and geese

squawk and honk in kind. I

swim glances beyond the brackish susurrus,

beyond the sublime bargain of

premature seventies before the ides

of March, beyond the crepuscular song

(so out of tune) of that geese

couple, a couple of sapling

-like leaves amid the senescent.

They whisper of starting over

before the river takes to the sea.

Chasing Slices

The waves crash and I crash

out of my red-and-white floral

patterned beach mat, veer barefoot

to the sand damp with water

unaware of the air’s unseasonal

thermal dance, unaware of how I

want that little slice

of vermillion to swell in my

eyes. If only sprinting at the horizon

could force its hand. But

the slice of the horizon

pie doesn’t wax

poetic; the river current

loses its currant reflection as the sky

flavor changes: golden gooseberry

to raspberry to tart blueberry

to moldy blackberry. Maybe

beauty berries bite in

the mouth of the

beholder.

I took the picture and wrote both of these poems around sunset last night. Let me know which one y’all prefer!