Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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BAY STREET

I was the most beautiful baby on Bay Street
loved like no other, our dreams coming in
with the tide, yet unease of Zeros, uncertainty
of night, its fear, lights out, submerged in opacity
of fog, substance of shadows, the haunting
sound, a baritone horn, a ship lost in port
the turning welcomes the Sierra sun spreading
over Oakland hills across the bay, beams weightless
dancing, dispersing cool vapors, liberating air
a breathing sea respires with dawn, Sunday morning
stroll around the marina, boats bobbing with
the lapping waters, chains anchoring the wait
breezes constant wrinkling of the surface
under soundings reverberate from deeper depths
beyond our understanding, enigma of referent
influence of tides, ebb and flow, cyclical undulations
love married to the moon.

c)  Jan G. Otterstrom F.
     November 2, 2009
     La Habana, Cuba