Earthquake
no place left to live
home is a blue umbrella
tears stream down your face
tears fall on your child
held tightly against more loss
death lurks everywhere
Pamela Olson 5/16/08
In memory of those who have died,
in honor of those who are left.
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Trapped
We found the gull
you and I
as we walked along the beach
choked with driftwood
tossed so easily from wave to sand
during the winter rages
it was just there
eyeing us as we passed by
letting us be far too close
casting our shadows
gray and soft
on the cloudy day
the strands of fishing line
sparkled in the brief light
the sun finding its way
out of the maze of
cloud and mist
to strike the line at the right time
fishing line woven around wings
left by some tourist
or another who doesn’t know
the danger of leaving
seemingly innocuous
bits of this civilization behind
woven into an accidental net
to capture the gull here
on the sand and driftwood
not in the sky free-wheeling
along the dunes
and the waves
caught close to the earth
in this dangerous world
feet firmly planted
wingspan reduced
the gull becomes
just one of us
here on this beach
Pamela Olson, 5/16/08
This poem was written for the prompt
“wingspan” at Easystreet Prompts
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