"Beach Sunset" in Boston
The sun
hangs alone
in a
white-blue sky,
coral
copper luminous
as if
it will sink into waves;
not
behind buildings,
squatting
heaps
of
city life, city death.
This
sun belongs to kite winds,
lonely
shores for runaways.
Colors
do not roar tonight.
I stare
it in the eye.
The sun
sprouts ink-blue shadows;
maybe
it will blind me
but
I can't
turn away.
I see
another place;
now
and there are one.
What
more to wish
than
that same face
to
follow gliding down where it is home?
###
© Marta Steele 1979, 2010. All
rights reserved. No reproduction in any media without express permission of
poet in writing.