ODE TO PATIENCE

The jetty is replete today
with tourists, pale as the sun
bleached concrete, stopping
to gawk at the fishermen
who ignore them intent
on watching the sadly still line.

The pelicans sit on the rocks
grooming and posing, talking
loudly on occasion before
spreading wings and flying off.
Out on the jetty a pelican waits
patiently for the fisherman
to pack up for the day, knowing
he will dump his bait bucket
on the concrete and the pelican
will be rewarded for his patience.

OR CUT BAIT

They sit or stand patiently
on the jetty, a concrete path
jutting out into the ocean.

The old timers have two
lines out, bait bucket
sitting in the bicycle-wheeled
cart parked on the edge
of the jetty’s bouldered margin.

You don’t ask what they’ve
caught, that would be obvious,
and you know they are here for
the act of fishing, and the catch
is that there never is
the expectation of one.

CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR

We sit around the small tables
glad to be out of the sun
whose midday glare seems
to blind the drivers slowly
approaching the Jetty Park lot.

A family chatters, the children
laughing at nothing, at everything,
and nearby a dog lays out
dreaming of a good walk
and dinner, hoping for scraps.

We can hear the water
of the inlet, the waves breaking
onto the beach, visuals left
to our imaginations, but we
are satisfied with that, and
the fact that our tacos here
are far more reasonable with the
“without the view” discount.