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Ode to the Bay of Eloise

She is whipping winds. Salt, washing over my hair, eyes, skin. Numbingly cold waters, as if just unfrozen, spilling into, refreshing the Bay. She hosts, An eroded map Of webbed and pebbled paths. Barnacle scattered grit. Rolling fields of green low tides. A fisherman’s daydream. A meeting Of core and sun. She is an awakening, a renewal, a provocation of adventure.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 2/1/2019 10:58:00 PM
Your succinct words paint a vivid picture in your delightful poem, Clair! Enjoyed this one :)
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