White water chips away worn layers of dun adobe.
Defrosting boardwalk drips into gaping squirrel burrows.
A heron parks on a boulder, monitors passing anchovies.
Surf booms against crumbling shoreline.
I pause at earth’s edge, year’s end,
contemplate coming upheavals and losses.
Vigilant pelicans skid above El Niño spindrift.
Rising sun illuminates shifting tide.
Defiant ice plant clings to stone wreckage.
By Jennifer Lagier
Jennifer Lagier has published ten books and in literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Forthcoming books: Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle). Click here to visit her website.