Harbor Park–one of those famous places:

Have you ever had the feeling that you were somehow missing out on the experience of a place? That you were gazing on a famous landmark yet somehow not quite getting the experience you were “supposed” to get? Harbor Park comes out of that kind of feeling.

In this case, Harbor Park refers to what is actually called Waterfront Park, in Charleston, South Carolina. In theory, you can see Fort Sumter from the park. However, if it is a bit hazy, as it was the day I was there, you won’t get to see much off shore. The park runs along the Cooper River–it isn’t directly oceanside. However, you get the feel — especially in the haze– that the ocean is just outside your view, just around the next corner, so to speak.

 

Harbor Park

A fishing boat bobs alongside a dock. Winches dangle empty.
By a dry fountain, a man opens a hatch set into the concrete.
Another descends a ladder to the space beneath, bangs and knocks about
until the metal pineapple gushes bleach-smelling water and oil.

Spreading live oaks shade a walkway, flank a line of empty benches.
Across the un-potholed street, sagging homes peer
through scaffolding. Windows wink early morning messages across
the sterile park, dot dash, dot dot dash, dot.

Without leaves that all summer would screen the sun,
a tree’s branches sprawl a-kilter, grasp for sky,
cast broken shadows on renovated pillars painted just off-
white. Their calcified bones stretch and gleam in Charleston’s sun.

Shouldn’t it all be more promising, redolent of expectation? The ocean
is right there, waves wanting to break like lives upon the grass.

If you enjoyed Harbor Park

You’ll find more of my poems on this blog or in the collection Stars Crawl Out From Their Caves, which is available in both ebook and print.  Missed a poem of the week? Links to prior weeks are on this page.

Photos in this post are mine. Above is a detail from the pineapple fountain at one end of Waterfront Park.

Have a great week!