27 February 2007


226
A stone lies on the beachy shelf,
Its sand pedestal fed and eaten
By the obedient curving wave.
.
In the lacunae of the habitual
Is a chance thorn among millions,
And the drop pricked there may fabric
Cove, sand, wave, sky, and all.

10 comments:

ladypirate said...

Gorgeous. Photo and verse!

mark said...

thanks lady.

Antonia said...

the peom is cool. infinitely fascinating, waves and what they do.

mark said...

hey Antonia, thanks. how was your trip? or was that a metaphorical journey?

Antonia said...

your welcome. was both a metaphorical and real journey, but too short unfortunately...

Antonia said...

this one really fascinates me, so just want to say again that this is cool, both photey and poem. the light is interesting that comes from the laterns.

mark said...

thanks again ma'am. that's the park across the street from our window.

Antonia said...

cool view. I still like this photey most. just saying. that's always speciallight, snow in darkness and streetlights.

mark said...

well--i could e-mail you a larger file of it if you want, just let me know.

Antonia said...

ok thanks, please do.