In August I dream of the sea.
I dream of Cape Cod
Where water like silk
Meets a Hopper shore.
I dream of Los Angeles
Where the cold and wild Pacific
Meets a manicured coast
And the highway bends toward Malibu.
I dream of Istanbul
Where ferries ply the Bosphorus
Where Europe meets Asia;
Where protest meets pepper spray,
Old men and their ways
Meet unvanquished youth.
I dream of Cape Town
Where a billowing cloth
Tumbles off Table Mountain,
And rolls toward the harbor,
Where boats carry the faithful
To rocky Robben Island
And Mandela’s tiny green cell.
I dream of the ocean in August
The sweet salt water of hope.
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