Halo
Standing on a distant pier,
above are alabaster clouds
folding in multiples of grey
stalking, seriously discussed skies.
April showers on their lives,
the wet beach kicks sand on the ego of the shin,
scratching the surface in a flutter of confusion.
Along the cast over coast, a couple makes love
on the windy Gulf in shades of romantica.
Colorless, but for the tones of amour; shadowy figures
isolated for this instant to be made and kept, only theirs.
Tracks of love, bare feet litter the shoreline blanket
of pebbled sand, running the marathon together,
hand in hand, blurs of cottons and linens, hair whipping blind,
everything exposed, caught unawares
by their own vulnerabilities.
Seagulls halo the two,
the birds pursue spring lovers
to the ends of the earth,
embracing the chill
that heats the skin
pelt by the salted rain,
hitting heavy hearts
in pounding chests
hurting, lurching to be felt.
Love is a walk on the Gulf.
Spring is an empty beach.
Marriage is a marathon.
Rain is the aphrodisiac.
Scott Zirkelback
May 2, 2011
North Port Poetry Workshop
Linda Moreau
Spring Wedding
Spring Art Show
Photography
