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Off Season

by William O. Haynes  

Sitting alone at a sidewalk table,
We sip cabernet in the cool breeze,
Beneath a green Perrier umbrella.
Red and amber leaves swirl
Beneath skies gray with winter clouds.
The air smells faintly of fish
From the stony beach.

The off-season in this coastal village
And only townies and a few
Lagging tourists like ourselves remain.
It is the last stop,
On the final day
Of our vacation
And we are fugitives,
Masked by tartan scarves,
Eluding a persistent tour guide.

Warmed by wool jackets
With collars turned up,
Our breath drifts like smoke
As the umbrella flaps,
And we order
Another glass of wine
To toast a new beginning.

Our tour bus pauses
On the cobblestones
By the cafe,
But we sit motionless as deer,
As it slowly rumbles
Out of town.

By William O. Haynes

William Ogden Haynes is a poet from Alabama and has published poetry in literary journals such as California Quarterly, Forge Journal and PIF Magazine.  His chapbook entitled “Five Thousand Days” has been accepted for publication in 2011 by Negative Capability Press in Mobile, AL. He has been invited to read his work at several arts festivals in the state and believes that the mark of a good poem is that, at the end, people feel glad they read or heard it. In a prior life he taught speech-language pathology at Auburn University and authored six major professional textbooks. His e-mail address: William Ogden Haynes