Coal Oil Point No. 12

On the edges there is tall grass
to dance by
morning and evening wind
a chemistry of meat and sea mist
in her walk
a poise of sudden rainstorms
blown across seasons.

I am following this girl.
Days of tin and dust
dry clouds of bougainvillea
blow out to chained ships
waiting unattended.
They are like whales
like bells
built to echo
and to sail away.
I watch this girl 
who knows me
walk out on the pier.

William Timberman