Linda Dickman

Scoured by the Wind
For Amelia

We made it. You and I.
Oh, and Fred.
Our wings worse for the wear,
Felled far from our goal.
Rescued from the sauce.
Rescued.
Hope floats.

That little girl looked
Curious. Was it the pants?
The short hair? She looked
From me to her mother, questioning.

But we’re rescued, Electra,
Drawn out of the salt
Into the spray.
Rescued!

Who could have guessed
On this rock solid pier
That we’d end up walking the planks
Into the rising sun.