Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Rolling Bridge Road

timeless cross on that
last unknown road to nowhere
before split to bay bridge
and frozen wasteland
Chesapeake scenery,
where there's a boat cutting across,
slashes through beautiful
static sheet of ice
not unlike shattered glass
floating on caps of slush and white,
two hundred years ago
there were oyster breakers on
those waves, scuttling ashore,
broken hulls, gray aged hands
 on tired washed out decks,
carrying food
for the poor.

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