Edge of a Blue Expanse

 Edge of a Blue Expanse

 Early in the 2000’s,

my aunt and I

 took the backroads

along the coast

 back to Atlanta

from Panama City Beach,


 Everywhere evidence

of a recent hurricane

 appeared in debris

pushed high up in trees,

tangled weavings like giant,

 prehistoric bird nests

 of jumbled netting,

broken bits of fishing line,

brambles, and driftwood.

 An eternity of blue

 to the right of the shoreline

 drowsed, placid azure

 sea and sky,

 herons winging white

across salty marshes.

Was my aunt’s

 heart-scape the same?

 Survivor of a

divorce in the 70’s,

her only marriage,

 no children,

 a career woman,

gone to fat

to “keep away the wieners”.

She once volunteered

 to rock a baby

born with hydrocephalus,

simply to hold him

and comfort his crying.

 Within her was

 a battered coastline,

littered with tattered,

snarled swaths of sails,

hunks of plastic

 Dasani bottles

 and crushed Coke cans,

and warped, wet boards

 rotting in warm water

 under the sun,

now home to barnacles

 and tiny crustaceans,

all mashed together,

 embodiment of a retreated wave,

pushed up to

 the edge of a blue expanse.

Watching out the window,

 I made a promise

 to myself to be light

 like the heron flying

over the storm-tossed coast,

to be peaceful within,

like the water beyond,

still and blue,

and to be like the radiant sun,

returning all the warmer

 when the tempest ended. 

Chani Zwibel

Chani Zwibel is a graduate of Agnes Scott College, a poet, wife and dog-mom who was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but now dwells in Marietta, Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry after nature walks and daydreaming.

Recent Publications include:

 Occulum Oct 2, 2017, Dissident Voice Sept 24, 2017, HorrorSleazeTrash August 26, 2017, The Song Is August 9, 2017, Clockwise Cat Thugwise Cat Issue 37 (June 2017),Sage Woman Worlds of Faerie Issue 91(April 2017), W.I.S.H (Walking Is Still Honest) Press March 10, 2017, Provoke Journal, January 2017

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