and crab quesadillas, tiki torches
and the faint lights of fishing boats trolling
home, the fussing of pelicans shrouded
in palms, all the Russians and Germans
smoking in Charley's Cabana and
shouting across the globe into iPhones.
No, today is the celebration
of salvation, the birth of redemption,
there are three sage ibis stalking the docks,
stray egrets and heron minding their flock.
The Euros drink coffee at poolside
and their children eat waffles and smoothies
in silence. The morning mist dissipates
and the island burns under the sun.
Sailboats anchor offshore, filling the air
with Neil Diamond songs and the smoke
from charred steaks and when Charley shouts
"Hey, you want bloody mary's?" above the jet ski drone
and the waves lapping off the cigarette boat wake,
we know a miracle has been born.
What it will be we do not know, only
that the the myth is written in our blood
and takes us years to understand.
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