The Harbor
For Paul Evans
A snake of black oil winds it way to the surface
Almost a sign of life from this watery grave
It blurs the water but does not blend in
Misplaced, like its source
A single orchid blossom floats silently by
A nameless request for peace
While coral sways softly, coaxed by the timeless tide
Firmly anchored to its manmade home
Safe now in a salty embrace
The Arizona settles herself into your memory
And peace flows again through the harbor
If not the hearts that still mourn
— Celeste Huttes
Celeste Huttes is a freelance writer in Forsyth. Her
interview with Morgan Evans, one of Paul Evans’ brothers, appears
elsewhere in this issue.
People’s Poetry accepts poems on any subject,
but ones that deal with issues of local interest are encouraged. Send yours
to Corrine Frisch c/o Illinois Times, P.O. Box 5256, Springfield, IL 62705, or to cfrisch@illinoistimes.com with “People’s Poetry” in the
subject line.
This article appears in Aug 18-24, 2005.
