Around a table at El Mag as the days grow short.
A warm place in the early dark of December.
I had a Burrito To Go—
misnamed because I always eat it there.
There are so few lights on the peninsula at night;
much more darkness
as raccoons meander across untraveled roads.
Waves lap empty beaches
depositing bits of sea glass and trash.
Winds blow through the bayside pines
and old houses decay into dust
so slowly.
All the more precious the table around which we sat,
we five.
Sharing notes and news
but sheltered by a light
that pervades it all.
There is no darkness the light doesn’t touch.
–Alex Joyner
You bring to that table—and into the light.
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I like the sounds and the pacing as well as the images.
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Love this poem, the images capture the environment in a simple, but vivid manner.
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Thanks, Bill. I’m all about place as you know
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Great post! I loved your expressions and imagery! Keep wringing, talented writer!🌸
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