The gondola promises a royal treatment for the duration of the tour,
the only boat that can make such promise.
It’s not the brocaded seat that attracts me,
but the long oar and its fulcrum, the forcola.
I have no desire to sit.
I want to stand and row.
Blue and green reverberate inside me.
I close my eyes and I think blue — sky blue and water blue.
I open my eyes and I remember green.
I will hold this gift of colors close to my heart until I see you again, Little Cayman.
A spider spun its web on a parsley flower head.
Dewdrops like tiny pearls.
It happened outside my window.