The sailboats swing taut
They ache in unison
Moored along the harbor’s shore
Holding for a small moment,
The scene
As winds steadily come off
The waters dark gray sheen
It’s fingers begin to intricately
Play the long bending grass
And as it picks up,
It riffs with the clanking masts
Her damp salty hair
Brushes across her face,
Choppy as the water
The water with It’s hoarse voice
That swallows her spindrift tears
She then waits for the shadows
Some calm rationale
Waits for the shadows to pass
Pass swiftly over the water
Water smooth and flat
WHAT A MARVELOUS SHARING, MORGAN...! THE EXCELLENT IMAGERY HERE THAT CLEARLY DEPICTS THE ANGUISH OF...SHE... BEING DRENCHED EMOTIONALLY IN A SPINDRIFT TURMOIL...BUT PERSEVERING AND STILL STANDING. BRAVO! LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...HIS+INSPIRATIONS
Beautifully comparing the mine's thoughts to a sailboat in harbor with the creaking and groaning, and even, clanking when the wind comes up.
Perhaps that's why my publisher left her sailboat in Tampa Harbor for a more stable and less noisy at limited space for the Georgia mountains after living in new England for a while before.
For me, there is such a classical orchestration of words here that give musical phrasing to the subjects of water, wind, and heart. Enjoyed this immensely. Keep up creative discoveries for us. We need all we can find in this world of wounds we continue to wallow in.
Juxtaposing the woman's feelings and the mood of the ocean works well. The imagery is easily perceived and felt. One of your best expressions MM. Well done. r
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
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Perhaps that's why my publisher left her sailboat in Tampa Harbor for a more stable and less noisy at limited space for the Georgia mountains after living in new England for a while before.
Ron