Written
2004
Always the purity of white
as if there can be no hope
if this is not so.
And blue sky for us
parted clouds and gray
gone for the day.
We have never seen a lighthouse
in rain.
and fog drifts away
on the cool
in the morning
to leave the picture
of ocean
and sky in different white
streaked blues
Climbing stairs
inspecting mirrors
holding breath
touching hands
Walking on the beach
looking at the eye
looking at us.
Golfers and deer
from the best of views.
I remember the light houses
as I remember you.
a guiding light
a smiling sky
a hopeful forever stance.
There will always be a lighthouse
to remind us of those
calendar days.
Notes
wherever I go Mexico,the North Coast, Santa Cruz or Kauai I am always fascinated by lighthouses, The isolation hints of intimacy in sharp contradiction to the reality. The isolation of the keeper is contrasted with the gleeful visitors on a sunny day.