Kyle, are you alone, empty
this June? Ocean waves speak
in clear, distinct thankful vowels
for each passing seal or whale.
Even moss ridden barnacles
attach to driftwood planks
with longing. Sunset faces
a brilliant energy dancing
off laced ferns. Lay back
on a sofa chair, tangle feet
in your private dingy. Open
doors, allow the breeze to enter
with the sun. Close your eyes, soak
rays through these cracked window
panes as the ancient cypress breaks
into dark surrender. A Pacific Wren
lands on the fence while a succulent
cactus losses a leaf. High above clouds
next door, the weathervane turns
unsure of direction.
Silence catches a Westport sunset.
—
Poet, artist, instructor, Clarissa Jakobsons, earned a B.F.A. from Kent State University, twice featured poet in Paris, at The Shakespeare and Co. Bookstore, and won First Place at the Akron Art Institute New Words Competition. Her 2023 poem from Baltic Amber in a Chest received a Pushcart nomination. She writes, “Don’t be surprised to see my inner artist kicking sandcastles, climbing Mount Diablo, painting Provincetown dunes, or walking under an Ohio crescent moon.”
