Loma Prieta

Dark hill, shape
Of a lumbering bear
Backlit at sunset.

The first time
I woke from a dream
Thinking it was the wind.

Another year
A parrot took wing
Amid tropical ruins.

Seven vultures met
Beside the road from Antigua
To Sta. Maria de Jesus.

Our digressions
Are waves along the faults
Branched like lightning.

We make serious inventories
Of loved ones
Who are out of reach.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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3 Responses to Loma Prieta

  1. nananoyz says:

    I might’ve met those vultures outside of La Antigua de Guatemala. Serious folks, they were. Lovely poem.

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