Tuesday, November 27, 2007


Eventide on the Texas Coast. I follow a winding trail down the thirty foot bluff to a man-made peninsula. A pier juts from its tongue. My footsteps echo on weathered wooden boards washed clean by recent rain. Near the end a lone fisherman stands, his three rods in holsters along the railing. Tiny metal bells warn of nibbles from below. Night falls. The air smells of water, salt. Storm cleansed. The sea breeze rises, cooling my skin as I climb back to the rim. I turn and look again. On the opposite shore the lights of Seadrift, a fishing village, glitter in the darkness.

mesquite branches
leaning west –
wind sculptured

by Lynn Edge
Tivoli, Texas
first published in Kaleidowhirl, Spring 2005

1 comment:

Ričardas said...

Just spellbinding, especially the ending. I liked it.