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A Poem a Day into the Millennium  15 November 1999
 

What Beauty Then Is This, I See?


Floridian leaves fall 
and a gray branch is green again overnight. 
The continuous sound of surf, sand, sunsets. 
Hard shadows ... old forms sculpted to their benches 
speaking photographs, reliving epiphanies; 
Continuous shells to ears, gulls, noisy Spring breaks. 
A maelstrom broken only 
in the swirl of an occasional thunderstorm. 
The saving grace of a mockingbird is paradise. 

Search. 
You cannot forget Pennsylvania 
between the evening and the night 
when in the Indian Summer 
the ripe apples roll down the hillside. 
The air fills your nose and heart. 
Somewhere between the dawn and morning 
on a branch outside 
a song is rich and fertile 
wild berries grow large 
and around each corner children play. 

Search in the never-ending flatness 
and compare this to the magnificent blue-green valleys. 
There can be no doubt. 

Florida is a place to come to sit and dream 
when you can no longer run 
through the rest of the house. 
 


- Bob Cain


 
image of stork.to Bob's page.....to archives..image of stork

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