Drawdy Pointe
Drawdy Pointe
Flyaway frond hairs wear the breeze
where the green palm nods her head,
and the pelican post's lone occupant
is surveying the fisherman’s empty line.
Across the water in the yellow yard,
a gypsy on loan from Key West,
the alpaca grows wool, the donkey brays,
and the happy chickens nest.
Quiet and peaceful, grasses silently slip,
adrift on canals from the sea;
the star fruit falling across the fence
is golden and perfectly sweet.
I have heard said that island time
never checks the hands of a clock,
just simply wafts by from daylight to dark
as we sit in our chairs on the dock.
Copyright, January 22, 2022
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