No doves along the reef.
A few crabs, skin of a bird.
I look for something to reflect the sun.
Everything here poses nude.
Waves pace back and forth over the rocks.

I miss the pine trees planted near the duck
pond, their needles falling.

My knuckles press into burlap
and rain; I gesture with my thumb,
my hand, my brow. Every part of my body
says goodbye.

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Kathleen Vibbert

Kathleen Vibbert lives in the Midwest and is retired. She enjoys studying creative writing and all forms of poetry. She has been married 34 years and has three grown children. Her work has been published in SOFTBLOW Poetry Journal, Muscadine Lines — A Southern Anthology, Just West of Athens, and Facets.

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© 2007 Kathleen Vibbert