Monday, June 16, 2008

Vacation

I returned home from Kiawah Island, SC on Saturday. It was incredibly relaxing. I spent most of my time reading travel/food books, and I even did a bit of writing. I wrote this poem (still in the works, though) for this view (though at a different time of day).




The sun looks like and orange eye as it lowers
and peeks at me through the thick tress on the small island
floating in the river across from me

while a heron matches the river in blue, doing nothing
but parading through the marsh grass like a guard on duty
and he notes that all is in order, for the tide is rising steadily,

making invisible the sandbar that I saw only an hour earlier,
while next to me the fiddler crabs scurry about, their large claws raised
and ready to do battle with the incoming tide

that is threatening to dilapidate the shoreline
but only for now, because by morning tomorrow the water
will not seem dangerous anymore, as it folds down

to reveal the jagged line of oyster shells, a minature fortress baricade
or Great Wall of China, but for now, they are just shells,
hiding beneath the river, afraid of the night.

Next to me, a family poses for a group photo,
trying to capture the moment.

One of my favorite parts of vacation is the Oyster Roast. Everyone stands around at great wooden spools, which are piled high with fresh oysters, roasted in fire pits right there. Take a knife, crack one open, douse it with lemon and hot sauce, suck it out of the shell. Delicious. But the best part of the night is dancing and dancing and dancing with my dad to the live island band.

1 comment:

Andrew said...

I like how you connected your poem to the photo. I also like the flow of the poem, how every line seems to come naturally from the one before it.

My favorite part of this post, however, was your description of the mussels followed by you and your dad dancing. I can picture it, at some dark wooden seafood joint.