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Motif 1, by Rick Yenofsky
Peace by the Pier
by Michael Escoubas
I sit alone
beneath a sky adorned
in robes of purple and gold–
this quietude, so different from the town,
with its horns and blares, the rush
to get about, so different from
the world portending widening wars,
and shouts of hatred toward
those who are different.
I see my face in the placid sea.
Stones, rough in their places, show
where the tide washed in and out again.
The boathouse, sporting a crimson splash,
stands upright on the pier. A sliver of yellow
fulfills the promise of a new day, a fresh start,
in a world crying out for an end to turbulence.
How boundless the resemblances
between sky and cloud, house and pier …
and the heart’s deepest yearnings for peace.
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