(past a tangerine rusted truck)
the bridge opening-
like hands finished with prayer.
The sun glares,
he stares, glossy eyed
at a Coast Guard boat that glides
on amber colored water and slides
miniature waves to meet
fishermen's hooks.
Ropes on flagpoles clank
a silver, ting-tang sound,
they signal the arrival of wind,
in one moment,
and the departure
of an old, dry life
in the next.
Andrea Jazwiecki 2004