Clouds rolling, fishing boats trolling, no one hurries, no worries.

Why would they?

Just another week before, times so oft seen ashore – Hurricane

Seas at calm, humidity and balm, casting nets, no one frets-

And why should they?

Three days still ahead, winds blustery, no imminent dread – Hurricane

Some boats docking, nothing shocking, tides ebb and flow as always.

And why shouldn’t they?

Two days out, growing swells, winds blow wet, fishy smells – Hurricane

Batten down the hatches, ply-wood patches, windows X’ed, and boarded.

Just another day.

Sea walls breach, waters roll in, cars flood the bridge again – Hurricane

Red sky morning, a sailors warning, fishing pier nearly covered.

Will it hold?

Windows smashing, palm trees lashing, bridges crashing – Hurricane

Houses falling, winds a squalling, power shorted, beach aborted—

Where are they?

People missing, windows hissing, trees falling, rivers mauling – Hurricane

Pier is gone, squeals and moans, rip-tides ravaging main street.

When will it end?

Skies darken, as the sea resides, no where left on earth to hide-Hurricane

Barometric vacuum steals breath from lungs, too late now no-where to run.

Tidal Wave!

Forty-foot wall of deadly force, headed inland with no remorse-Hurricane

Sudden blast of horrendous sound, no-one to hear it,  there is no –







Honey, Lime, Super-Chicken

I started this one by searing both sides of the “Monster” sized leg quarters I found bagged at the market last week. They must be feeding these guys way too many steroids  ( not that any amount is less than too many) as one leg alone was as big as Foghorn Leghorn,spread eagle on a family vacation beach trip. I'm talking Serious Super Chickens !!! But,though,

I don't recall the exact per pound price,I do know it was one sweet chic of a deal. 

I first accommodated old Leghorn with a rub down of garlic infused extra virgin olive oil suntan lotion, and seduced  him with a nice lime toddy squeeze.

He, already basking in the saliferous, nebula of sun, and sea salt, was none the reluctant. By now the cracked black pepper, thyme, and cilantro rub-down went un-squawked. I slowly pulled the skin above his thigh, and stuck a chubby clove of garlic between the fleshy fold. Instantly, Foghorns breathing winged rapid. His succulent pores opened, and closed, as his gasping vesicles sucked savory, zephyrous, Vidalia …      SNAP OUT OF IT Cindythis is Foghorn Leghorn I’m talking about, NOT Gordon Ramsay!!!!!

So there I was…

Just me  ,.. a stainless steel stew pan, and foghorn leghorn…I seared him, speared him, and stuck him in a 350 degree Fahrenheit oven…And Voila … ( Incidentally, Any Pan Straight From the Stove Top Is Safe to Penetrate the Oven up to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, though I don’t recommend Teflon Coated Pans)  30 minutes later I slathered him in a honey, thyme baste, and laid him back into the oven, 15 minutes before I ate him like a starving  pigmy from New Guinea-chickenville. The whole thing lasted about an hour.





Oceans At Night

In the distance
I see an ocean;
and a ship on
the horizon wall.
I really am intrigued. 


Of sun,  sweat, and
gritty sand, though,
I can na bear the thought.
I dip into a pavilion,
out to the edge of
the pier. So much
cooler here this

time of day, and

eyes are sweaty

The sounds
of video and pinball
are music to my soul,
but the smell of
cotton candy, and
popcorn, send me
seeking a corner bistro.
The time just seemed
to disappear as I look
out or’e the bay. An
empty beach, and no
hot sun, I think it’s nice
that way. As I walk out
on the cooler strand,
the receding wave tickling
my toes with sand,
I am awed by the extent
and sight, and reminded
that there is nothing more
beautiful, or satisfying than
an empty beach at night.

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