Catalina Island barely visible
half lit, behind the rolling
clouds of fog.
Rustic red and black cargo ships
wait in a straight line,
to unload.
A vibrant October reddish, orange sun
slowly rises behind Laguna Hills,
fish begin to jump.
An ocean of Gestalt movements
patches of silver and blue swells
from the end of the pier to the horizon,
Palos Verdes hilltop homes windows,
reflect tiny fires from the sunrise.
My fishing pole rests
against a carved up wooden rail,
baited and awaiting the pull
showing only movements of nibbles.
Quietly, I pray in the solitude
and thank God for the beauty
of the early morning.
My spirit content and filled with
His peace, while the fog horn blows
safety to others at sea.
I hear the chatter of patience
It's all about patience,
fishing line still without any movement.
White bucket without any fish,
the grace and peace is worth
it all, as I sip my starbucks coffee.
A contest entry
- October by ea.
700 points, ended November 1, 2008, 34 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
I do not have a cedar chest to store old memories or stretched out sweaters.
Comments
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Enchanting!
Sweetheart you have a wonderful gift.
Your words speak from a warm and
affectionate heart. Many go their entire
lives without really appreciating the beauty
of Gods creation. I think you have a great
gift for expression and should continue
to enlighten a dreary apathetic world.
Lovely poem
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This drew me in right away with the place names. There's such a wonderful sense of tranquility to it. I enjoyed it very much, very descriptive.
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I enjoyed this view from the fisherman's wharf of an early morning looking out towards the Island with pole and coffee cup in hand. Very evocative of the kind of October morning I would appreciate, too. Your comment prompt is interesting, too. Old spice.
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