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


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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