The bus station ship

The crimson cone rises out of the pavement
but no smoke comes from the stack.
No water to float on this vessel turned bus station
shines as a reminder in the sunset of days long gone.
The shipyards last remnant
is a bus station beside the trains.
Rosie the Riveter lived here
and now a woman assumes her identity
to panhandle for change.
She's yelling, "you can do it" at passersby
who try not to look her full in the face.
It might ruin the poster on their walls for inspiration.
The pavement might creep up on them to hold them inland
like this ship, taken over by the landscape, held in place.
A constant reminder of the greatest generation, the ship sits alone.
Unseen by the people struggling to use their idle hands.

My Spirit is Nourshed By

In circles around my body, the hula hoop travels
from hip to hip with music commanding its orbit.
The gravity of melody, harmony & rhythm
transformed into a dance inside a hoop, on stage
at the back of the crowd. Children stop and stare;
mouths gaping open,"How's she doing that Mommy?"

Grass between my toes and wind off the bay;
a nourishing breeze for this bright, autumn afternoon.
People jamming together for slow food. Sustainable nourishment
while we nurture our spirits with the conversation, the education.
To grow and learn, old and young orbit like this hoop,
create goals to break out of the same old circles
and find new tricks with a simple toy.