San Salvador Bahamas Seascape

Across bold lanes of evening falling
I come to hear gold waves lulling,
the silk and sigh of tides fading
to ease the ending day.

Here lie persimmon sands, volcanic shores,
frothy shadings of the night's glory.
Reptilian lava speak of turtles past.
Distant cay erodes.

Golden cloud diminishes slowly,
smoke shadows of several stories --
molding battalions cross the gilding
led by a claw-winged beast.

And there, out over yonder
holding the horizon line strong
all the king's sailing boats
rest parked in Frenchman's bay.

With a spray from the coral reef
his highness slithers forth.
Neptune to perch upon
his throne's silver shore.

Dripping salt and pepper tresses
sweep a water-colored dome
of pearly salted embraces
of breath and broth and bone.

A sculptor has chipped a diver's hearth,
kneaded bread of sandstone,
hammered layers of worm ridges,
and spiraled limpet swirls.

A reign of stiffened taffeta
sneering scallop-ribboned court
peers through an air whistling eye-glass
and watches crabs skitter forth.

"Oh, what's in the neighborhood ?"
asks the winds turned sallow
as a lone swallow dives beyond
where ancient winds inscribe.

Varicolored snail's pillowing.
Nestled chalky cliffs.
Three-toes imprint
a scavenger gone by.

The palm fronds have camouflaged
as the night has fallen.
I ask myself these words,
"Where has time gone fallow?

Where does life abound?
at night? in day?"
No matter. Come life,
Come tiding in.
tiding in.