Forty-sixth Saturday, eight days late

These were lost, but now they're found.

Whitecaps race downstream.
Strong wind blows across current.
Tea goes cold quickly.

Corrugated clouds,
Sharp-edged, fast-moving water,
Bright light in slices.

Fast flash against gray:
On ferry terminal roof,
Ridges have caught sun.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Time limit is exhausted. Please reload the CAPTCHA.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.