Morning Canal By: Juli Simon

Just ahead, the canal will open, a little lazy and holding on
to the last bit of gray.
A parted carpet of water lilies wake themselves up, unfold
their long white petals.
Shaggy frills and tall tangles at the water’s edge light up, and
cypress trees crowd together, preening in the promise of green.
The boat planes down to a grumble, cutting pale reflections.

Soon, even shy clouds make pictures of themselves, rocking on slants
of brightening glass.
Water rings reach out to catch the light and minnows run;
shadow-darts in the sawgrass.
Limpkins stilt along the shoreline with a broken kind of grace,
minding only themselves and the apple snails.

We rev the engine, nod to each other, and smile.
I hold my hat and shade my eyes for the brilliance ahead.
Houses appear, and soon, other boats.
We wave, as boaters do, and plan our return
through the afternoon canal.

Bio:
Juli Simon is a recently retired muralist and decorative painter who finds paint often easier to manage than words.The (sometimes) loveable intricacies of human nature are what interest her most, in daily life and in her poetry.