‘Neath the Slats

Beads of briny perspirations stud my brow,

gently cocked in deference to the powerful sun.

Against the pit-pat of my soles on the pavement,

passing shadows strobe across my face

lifting me into an ethereal condition

somewhere between Dante and Renaissance.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s