See below for all four parts of my poem inspired by a wonderful week in Dubrovnik, Croatia, almost exactly 3 years ago. I didn’t have my camera, and they became my ‘word photos’.
Holiday
I.
One finished fruit drops into the ceaseless sawing cicada sound — loud beneath the gnarled branches.
Peacocks peck between twisted trunks: dusty remnants of different days.
And now for an ice cream.
II.
Discoball light catches the sides, poised
to slice through the turquoise
curve of this small bay
Four rows of coral
and cream
scale a slope
shrubbed with green.
Another slides into harbour,
or does the town move to meet it?
Sleek fortress islands, they tower over the palms.
III.
Ten minutes from the shore
the rustling wake
dominates the motor stutter.
Dark waves to starboard reveal
that night draws near.
But to port the milky sea reminds
we’ve not quite left the day behind.
IV.
The sun has stopped
lighting the horizon
and each charcoal mass
darkens to blue.
Bright Layers of green
no longer startle
above rocky ground.
The canopies,
pierced by cypress tips,
invisible now.
The islands
impose their entirety
on the dark water.
The Caper Press 