March 22, 2019
Photo by Melanie Black

A Poem by P.J. Thier

A wooden gate latched, but left unlocked,

            its gray boards beckoning;

A blue veined Glory

            waving allegiance to the morning;

A bakery, Portuguese,

             spinning heads with warm, sweet dough;

A weathervane in the likeness of a dragon,

            breathing futile fire into the sea;

A perfect chrysalis waiting for its wings;

A small window for a small face to look out from;

A crooked barn door questioning its timbers;

Rugosa roses blooming in the alley

            for the cats;

A boat that slips beneath the bay’s gray shroud

            issuing a prayer through the bells of the rigging;

Dunes, dressed in October’s asters, and

            wind blown berries in lavender wax

            for the candles,

            because the light is always changing.


To submit a photo or poem, email Assistant Library Director Brittany Taylor at