Caribbean Blue

This poem was written for an elderly lady,
Haydee Cansada.  She was born into
position and wealth in Cuba, but had
to leave when Castro came to power. 
She lived in a small apartment in our town
to be near her brother, her closest remaining
relative. I took Spanish lessons from her
and the reference to an owl comes from
a discussion we had about why the owl
is a symbol of wisdom.  She longed for
the chance to see Cuba again but it never
happened.  I wrote this for her as a present
while she was still alive.

          Caribbean Blue

  (a Haydee, una dama de Cuba)

Fog of morning rolls up from the ground,
Windless motion that carries no sound
Except the hoot of an owl.
Out past the porch where ought to be trees
Hangs abstract forest without any leaves,
Shrouded in a misty cowl.

Down the front steps, grass, smooth and deep,
Soft, wet and messy, adheres to my feet
And bends temporarily prone.
The air has texture that rubs on my face.
My God, how have I come to this place
To be so all alone?

Symmetrical webs perspire in the light
Reflecting labors completed last night,
Designed not to hinder the view.
Beauties of Spring, their colors in array,
Just memories masked by this curtain of gray.
Vainly, I strain to see through.

At last through the mist an unfiltered ray
Of sunlight cleaves cleanly, announcing the day
With its welcoming light.
Slowly, above, the veil changes hue,
First lacy, then pastel, then Caribbean blue.
Again the beloved sight!

                                  rlkilgore