Poetry and photograph by Joe Guastella
Standing on the slippery green
algae-entombed jetty where
black flat slabs jigsawed somehow
into place protect the edge.
Indiff’rent to the mighty
strike of ceaseless surf they sit
scrubbed clean, shining jet
wet above the drink. Aquatic
floral fluffs below the foam
cling with fastened feet
to wash their streaming locks.
Waving in the drift afloat
they transform dull, lifeless rocks
on which they dance seductively
the rhythms of the temptress tide.
Where the inlet yields;
opening her waiting mouth
to entreat the boisterous sea
to enter
to swell the shallows
of the bordered bay
with salt fresh hope.
Watching waters come and go
sliding by inward/outward
they flow; following the edge
of flood, where wavelets touch their tips.
They pass time and each other
on their twice daily ride
where fill and empty collide.
What do they hide?
One wonders, curious
as Pandora who gave in
to the urge, dared to open
her guarded jar…
And evil emptied into the world!
Yet hope remained
inside
to fill the void
to be kept safe
for all who seek its refuge,
waiting to be needed.
On ancient sand, shell-cluttered
toward the beach I saunter
while wisdom sits cross-legged
somewhere beyond steel morning clouds.
The distant sky draws closer
reaching for the earth.
Her slender fingers curl
about silent vapors on which
the children of water are borne
again into the heaving ocean’s
heavenly reign above and gather,
waiting in turn to rain back down
into the wet womb of life
as the cycle continues…
