The sharp tang of salt and creosote
Punches steadily away
Insistent surf froths
A short distance away an old gun emplacement scowls
In the distance stands Fisgard Lighthouse
Towering oyster shell white, capped and bolstered in red
Rampant as Priapus proclaiming fecundity
Quite rightly, given its proximity to the naval base
Where young men stand straight and tall
In their dress whites
Shining brightly
Sometimes forgetting that they are a warning
Of dangers at their feet
David Trudel © 2013
Reblogged this on Nature’s Abhorred Vacuum.
Thanks for the reblog!
From the first line on, the visuals are sharp. Wonderful
Thanks!