as I stroll through the sand
to the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse.
Gusts blow my auburn hair
like a flag on a breezy day.
Waves lap the shoreline,
grabbing chunks of earth,
devouring it on the ocean's floor.
Wave break in a roaring rumble
like a strong thunder clap.
Sitting at the foot of the structure,
I feel the warmth from the day's sun,
like the security I felt in my mother's arms'.
The giant beacon
blinks on off, on off,
I try to put a number
to the steps climbed in a year,
in its lifetime,
make an estimate
how long it took to build,
how many stones used,
how much concrete poured,
how many people visited?
I feel like a part of it as I sit here,
watching vessels as they are warned,
keeping them from running a ground.
A part of its foundation that's
stood against mighty winds and currents.
A strength that reminds me of America,
standing tall and firm
against adversity and threats,
yet, willing to yield to peace.