a lighthouse stands out in refraction and reflection,
an outlier beaming sixteen miles over serried waves.
Red shingles take in the sun’s warmth.
Buildings are drawn in cubes and light,
with the sharp edge of a New England Brahmin.
The earth is slipping East.
For a while I stand in the open.
I do not feel the ground turning beneath my feet.
I reach into the air, stretch out my hand,
the sun traces its arc across my palm,
another outlier at the edge of it all.
Painting by Edward Hopper, Lighthouse and Buildings, Portland Head, 1927
Poetry on the run 
Wow. I really like this one a lot. I stood beside you, raised my arm, saw the arc, and knew that feel of outlier. So nice, Ronald. 🙏🏽🥰
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Thanks so much. ~Ron
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“an outlier beaming sixteen miles over serried waves.” I adore this line. But it gets better….
“Buildings are drawn in cubes and light,/With the sharp edge of a New England Brahmin”. Making me run for the dictionary again, since I know who Brahma is…so I know the association you’re making…LOVE the idea of a clever New England Brahmin, a person of the intellectual elite and a priest to boot.
“The earth is slipping East”…and so is, dreamily, my mind.
And then the final line, the other outlier being your palm with the sun’s arc traced upon it.
So, so good. Visionary. Visual. Astounding.
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Thanks Holly, your post Bird on a Wire prompted me to try this. I’m happy it worked out.
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Oh, yes, the emphasis! Yes! I do love Hopper.
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Oops, auto-correct is to blame, I meant ekphrasis!!
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not to mention the “sharp” edge of this clever Brahmin.
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This is fantastic Ron. I especially like the lines:
with the sharp edge of a New England Brahmin.
another outlier at the edge of it all.
That last line caught me off guard, in a good way. A really good way. That’s the kind of line that hits home.
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Thanks Bob, I really worried over that final line.
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