Shorelines

By Eric Greinke

Originally published in Turtle Island Quarterly

 

6AM morning campfire, orange
firing up the dawn. Fresh
green spearmint by a clear
stream. Water flows from
cold springs to feed the blue
lake. Minnows gather in
curtains of light. A ski boat
circles, sending waves to smash
the shore, throwing light
skyward, projecting brief
rainbows. Weeds grow from
cracks in an old pier. Rusted
steel upangles from white
sand. Two old dogs play at
waters edge, puppies
at heart. A whoosh of wings
pumps over the lake: white
swans in explosive flight. Down
flutters down to float
on a fluid surface. Boats
sit at tilt on a pebble
beach. A seagull worries
a dead fish, its eyes
long gone, sockets staring at
a sky that stretches out
over clueless cities, by seas
that birth tidal waves aimed
at distant shores, where
campfires blink innocent eyes.

——————–

Eric Greinke has two new Presa Press books scheduled for 2016, Poets In Review (a collection of forty-six reviews written from 1972 to the present) and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems with Glenna Luschei. Recent work has appeared in the Aurorean, Delaware Poetry Review, Forge, Gargoyle, Home Planet News, Ibbetson Street, Main St. Rag, Poem, The Pedestal, So It Goes, Solo Novo and as a fine art broadside by Adastra Press. His poetry has found a large international audience.   www.ericgreinke.com


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