A Little Monday Poem
We have some wonderful friends who own a house on the water in Rockport, Texas, that they let us use. We go once or twice a year, and have even started taking the grand-kids. The house is a perfect beach cottage and I have many wonderful memories of fixing shrimp boils, taking Zen-like walks on the fishing pier, and just relaxing on the porch.
From the Porch, Rockport
Wedgwood bowl above,
cotton puffs drifting westward.
To the east, thin silver streaks
illuminated by the autumn sun
pouring gold and white
onto the southerly Gulf chop.
Palms rattle like maracas.
Gulls scream, unseen birds chirp.
Live oaks lean northward
permanently bent by relentless south wind.
The pier’s blue heron
and yesterday’s giant pelicans
must be at breakfast elsewhere.
The poem was written when we were in Rockport last November, from a prompt by poet and teacher Lori Desrosiers about “observing nature.” The photo, from several years ago, was taken from the porch, our favorite spot to have morning coffee and an evening glass of wine.