Saturday, March 29, 2014

Winter Dunes - Bonnie Oppenheimer


The sea, sky, gray
Rain spray, wind sting
Chilled water wrinkles
Onto boots

He wears his shoulders  bent,
Creased ocean, creased face,
Feet planted in the sand
Fishing

Another Christmas passed,
Another year retreats
Return to silence, aging.
Waiting

To be useful, to feel used,
Enough to fuel himself,
So when the boy comes
Asking for help,
Hurt gull wrapped in parka
Trembling

He shifts his feet and smiles,
Good boy. Good boy,
And tells him where to go
To tend the bird

Later,  light grows dim,
He packs his fish and gear,
Standing in his dusk,
Gazing at the dunes,
At  naked, broken  Christmas trees
Blanketing hills
Holding down the sand.

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