Canaveral from the Early
Twentieth Century
Till 1969
The cape, a manta ray with ribbons strung
Out, trails them back from north and south away
From ocean depths, a landscape left unsung
By poets who want mountains or the play
Of valleys. There are dunes and breakers, salt
Winds, sea grapes and harsh grasses. That is all.
A heron stalks the inland waters, halt
And step. This landscape’s a pathetic wall
Against low pressure’s gray Atlantic storms
And hurricanes. But lift your eyes and see
The winged migration, waves of feathered swarms
Much higher in the fall by God’s decree.
Then later look and see a white shape fly
With fire and triumph to the moon’s far sky.
…….