by Harriet Sohmers Zwerling

At first glance it is all one blue,
but nearer, you see the
indigo above, the teal below.
A pale ocher line divides them
into two unequal parts,
sky above, bay below,
the town wharf between.
Light from somewhere paints
the facades of the boat house,
the cold storage, the office.
And lined up along the pier
are the tiny fishing boats,
like wispy mosquitoes.

Judging from the darkness, a storm is coming.
That thick sky will soon glimmer with
lightning; the almost emerald water
leap with raindrops and
the pier disappear into the fog.

And I will be back at Beach Point
with you, love…

Harriet Sohmers Zwerling: Ex-expatriate, ex-nude model, ex-school teacher. Forever hedonist, grandmother and of course, writer.