Jennifer Lagier- Three Poems & Photos

Parenthesis

Morning fog banks glow pink

just above turquoise water.

Stark cypress enclose a pale portal,

reveal white beach, peek of lavender ocean.

Brown pelicans barely clear spindrift,

skid across waves, in tight bird formation.

Here and there, dolphin pods cavort,

circle sleeping sea otter rafts.

Grouchy gulls voice their complaints,

bookend cast-ashore kelp, silvery driftwood.

When the Sky Burns 
 

Falling sun blowtorches

a glowing horizon.

Deposits orange and gold

above purple ocean.

Tints shredded clouds pink,

accentuates black silhouettes,

rows of feathery cypress.

It’s an hour of endings,

light transformation.

Every minute brings new

shapes and hues,

appropriates burning sky 

as a palette.

Byzantine Sunrise

Cypress sentinels

overshadow the cliff

like giant umbrellas.

Parched succulents are embossed

against occluded sun and rocky trail,

gold-streaked morning ocean.

Lavender haze smolders

along cloaked hills,

chiaroscuro horizon.

Ocher mist ascends,

clings to gray layers

of sterile storm clouds.

Dust motes glitter, disappear.

All around, the cruel illusion

of impending rainfall.

Jennifer Lagier is an avid hiker, photographer, and supporter of sea snakes.