A PARK, MIRAMAR PLAYA

Knitted in, with the art of a needle
Are my prayers designing this fabric
Shielding me from the prevalence of evil.
I live removed, three full moons circle
My sky’s night, illuminating battlefield
Shadows, accentuated in bones, uneasy
Peace, pervades the air, emptiness
Feeling what I cannot feel.
Yet life continues, as leaves fall reluctantly
From the almond tree; Cuban salsa vibrates
My attitude, while street baseball is played
Around four corners.  The winter sun
Warms, even my old stature, as I wait
Wave after wave at that boyhood shore
In suspense of a future hour, towering
As the biggest wave of my day.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    January 7, 2007
    La Habana, Cuba