A very lovely poem from Cold Eye, my 70s literary tabloid. I've never met Kathleen Hall, but she is a very expressive writer. This is a fine poem that gets into the subject, paints a picture, and leaves a lasting impression of San Juan's peaceful essence.In the bright
Friday afternoon
a whistling man in
a torn red sweatshirt
plants rows of radishes
and waters the patted earth
until it darkens and steam begins
to rise.
Two white gulls
cry and dance in the
air between sailboat masts
tilting in the harbor.
Kathleen Hall
Friday afternoon
a whistling man in
a torn red sweatshirt
plants rows of radishes
and waters the patted earth
until it darkens and steam begins
to rise.
Two white gulls
cry and dance in the
air between sailboat masts
tilting in the harbor.
Kathleen Hall
TS
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