Out of Habit

Out of Habit

Just before sea-coated sky,

the Anhinga reaches bat wings

against the Intercoastal

canal, Palm Coast.

Red Drum bite below

the rocks bayside,

Slapping their spiny tail,


the séance. There is no

reason here,

the surf casts salt on

the sniffing interloper.

A skein of Pelicans dip

in the fire-pooled ocean.

Oil of night drips on what’s

more unaccustomed

The maelstrom of water knows

the water spout eases off the coast.

Whiting and sting ray

pull in the wake. Your parents

are here, retired

in the swampy pin oak.

Buried with each passing


blessings upon

nonexistent grandchildren.  

shortlink: dogb.us/habit



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