9:51 a.m. - 2008-09-11
-
Donald R. Anderson
In between the leaves.
In between the leaves
of a tropical palm,
slicing the sky like Caribbean spirits,
rocks smooth graininess like the face
of the ocean emerged to see what happened.
A little shack in the shade from the heat,
waters the color of native American jewelry.
Clear as outer space, as if it were
space filled with light and made liquid-dense.
Ashes wet and imprinted upon rock.
Creatures flourishing under the gliding,
rolling waves.
Life in cramped quarters of a small island.
And I see a seagull gliding overhead,
shoreline stretching forever,
I see the sky, stretching forever
as if it would float me out there to
the misty clouds, forever.
Forever seen between the slivers
between the leaves.
