Amanda Gabaldon – Tampa Bay, Florida
what would the bay want us to know
I wasn’t always carved out of rock and sand.
There were moments in time where I was dotted
with grasses that were cut down
and made into homes.

There was a bounty to be given to those who could see
me, between aquamarine or white sails, foreign
tongues sharp as bayonets stake out new lines.

I want you to know that the manatees have always felt
at home within me, waters warm and springs ice
cold, together we flow.

Anhingas who had flown, wings soaked, still find
warmth along my rock and sand and carved out
shores–sentinels of silent story.