Andrena Zawinski

 

Woman Waking, Seaside

 

The shroud of coastal fog rolls over

a woman lifting herself up

 

from deep pockets of sleep, from night’s

low note still whispering in on the lip

 

of the wind, on a slow drum of rain.

She rubs the slumber from her eyes,

 

lifts herself up to the cool wet

of the dawn, while the boats slip in

 

edging the tombola near Point Sur.

High above a sand spit, trade winds

 

wrap like scarves at her neck, the day

long and languid stretching itself

 

ahead, imagination her ear

pressed to the wall of the heavens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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