The white boats are buoyed by the water;
the blue sea splayed
in sunlight, cloud
& sky.
My heart beats
for these cubic
lines, the pentagrammic
houses over the shore.
The fishermen.
Remember
the waving light on the quay
of early morning; hunger
for the gusty rain before dusk,
or the flash flood.
5/1/18
Grazie Pietro
How jaunty, how pretty, amico. Ah, the pained ‘cubic lines’.