A FLORIDA CRACKER'S ADVENTURE

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  • Childhood

    A FLORIDA CRACKER'S ADVENTURE

    I am a child again, a little girl of ten,
    running in search of a new adventure.
    The rotting smell of seaweed burns my nose,
    but the ocean's spray is fine today
    as it blows in from the Gulf of Mexico
    christening my tongue with salt.

    Gulls shriek wildly, white wings of beggars
    flapping against the blue sky,
    diving, swishing feathers tempting those below
    to throw more bread.

    Looking up and calling them,
    a young female vacationer
    offers them chunks of stale bread.
    Everyone laughs at the feeding frenzy
    until one rascal of a bird relieves himself.
    Slow motion, a quiet second,
    she squints from the bright sun
    as his offering lands upon her closed eyelid.

    A loud scream, faces frozen in time.
    Is this a curse?
    No, just some way in learning
    that looking up to things of beauty too quickly
    can be a striking experience.

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    suan37’s Poems (1)

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