Floridians Asking Forgiveness
In a calm storm
the sea is waiting for refreshment.
The calm is a prelude
to more than peace.
Two times the lighthouse blinked,
abrupt in its stillness,
shy in its intention.
There, the ever present water
laps the shore with anticipation,
as if waiting to be born.
The mystery deepens
as the cold deep is mysterious,
peculiar in its abruptness.
The shelf of the sea is sloping,
sloping towards Atlantis.
All about the nets are cast,
waiting for a haul.
The interrupted daylight reels
with discontent,
and the Floridians who sit comfortably
are one by one asking forgiveness.
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