Seaside at Eighty by Karen Kelsay

Photo by Karen Kelsay

We’ll breakfast at Las Brisas when we’re gray,
Discussing all our commonalities
And differences, admiring the breeze.
We’ll chatter and remark about the way

The rocking eucalyptus branches seem
To hammock threads of morning sun along
The coast. Pale clouds will sift to butter-cream
And melon, swimming through a blue sarong

Of tinctured sky. I’ll scan the beach and sea
Where I once played in tide pools as a child,
And you will say: The waves are much more mild
On Devon’s shore, I really miss Torquay.

I’ll point to where the purple mussel shells
Are found, then Catalina’s outline might
Appear beyond the shoals of blue-green swells.
We’ll venture down the path and look for white

Sails cutting southward, tilting toward the shore
Where long ago we bathed and sunned before;
And like two cockle halves worn from the weather,
We’ll linger by the oceanfront together.


To read Karen’s bio and more of her verse on WIZ go here, here, here, here, and here.


Andalusian Moon by Karen Kelsay


Shadows cast by hills of Andalusia
Trace the groves and vineyards near the shore;
Sunset turns blue skies to red sangria;
Twilight spreads her Spanish veil once more.

Silver castanets appear as starlight;
Rhythmic clapping fills the village square;
Gypsy music floats in through my window,
Carried on the sultry summer air.

Moonbeams spill their secret spells upon me,
And I cast about a yearning glance;
Moorish towers whisper words of magic;
In my dreams I join the vibrant dance.


For more of Karen’s writing and her bio, go here.

The photograph “Moon and Branch” is by photographer and poet Brenda Levy Tate, who has granted permission for its use on WIZ.   For more of Brenda’s work, go here (for photography) and here (for poetry).