Apalachicola and St. George Island

The oil is playing colors on the water
And I can smell the diesel fuel from the shrimpboats.
Take a drink from the glass of amber,
Watch the seagulls and pelicans
Sail down from somewhere beyond to the docks,
Eat my fill of seafood, rich and fried
A golden brown, crisp, sweet slaw
And the feel of the breeze off the Gulf
On my short-sleeve shirted arms.
The sun is disappearing in the west
Above the trees, toward Pensacola.
Tonight we will walk barefoot, together,
On the silver sands, reflecting
The moon's glow above us
And watch for the lights
Of shrimpboats, out on the black water,
Until it is time to go back
And catch the breezes through the window
Across the covers, and find sleep,
Like children, happy, sunbrowned children,
The heat of the day finding its rest
On our sunbruised faces.