Finding Fox Red, 2014
        One never paints violently enough.
                        —Eugene Dclacroix

You can't get there by car,
so we walk a narrow path of rocks
through grass and buttercups.
Ahead, the cliffs are brittle as old teeth.
Now and then a rain-washed gully
zigzags up to hedgerows sparkling from spring showers.
Overhead, early fog rises into sky,
a pattering of rain falls,
and waves lift and tumble over waves.
T his stretch of sand is not marked by walkers or dogs.
Everything here welcomes us
except these hard stones at our feet
and the red, red sun, firing down between clouds.

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Copyright © 2016 Barbara Presnell All rights reserved
from Blue Star
Press 53
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission