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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 1, March 2014

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Francis Masat
Key West Florida, USA

The WPA Bridle Path, Key West c. 193

Used more by runners now, the coral path still separates mangrove fringed salt ponds and jade-watered sand beaches. This morning, palm shadows line the path like a row of rimless spoke wheels. Beachside, gulls circle over a fishing pelican. Pond-side, the surface shimmers through the mangroves as an osprey pierces the sun, emerging without a feather singed. And just above the path's defiant grasses and wild flowers, palm warblers weave through an old sea grape tree and vanish. As I watch, my soul swells with fullness beyond any simple words and I think of all the poems born here for so long.

an old iguana
strolls away, leaving
a last hibiscus bloom

I hiked that coral lane for years, but bodies age ─ another road must be taken. U-Haul in tow, the path, my path, slowly disappears behind me through a mist, though the air is blue and crystalline today.

moon rise
the flow of darkness
slows once more

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