Color of sea, color of cloud

It will rain later, the fishermen say

the vastness of blue

broken by white

buildings, red boat,

lingering glow of almost

sleeping sun.

The cathedral is on fire.

Burning light within

catches the fading rose of daylight

on whitewashed walls.

Wind ruffles glassy harbor surface,

spray of waves beat stone,

dampen the evening air.

A memory of rain

a premonition.

Samantha has been in love with poetry since she stole her mother's old college textbook of English poetry at age 10. Poetry speaks to her of the archaeology of the psyche, the strata of loneliness and desire inside all of us, and the equally strong ache to be fully seen. Samantha is a Northern California native, and lives on the foggy redwood coast of Santa Cruz while working in education in Silicon Valley.