Kelp
Fog creeps in from the sea.
Seven pelicans sail overhead;
silhouettes in the mist.
I find a stone with a keyhole.
The beach is littered with kelp.
Translucent blades, criss-crossed with ridges.
Firm airbladders. The holdfast grips
a rock with many fingers.
The kelp whispers questions:
What lifts you up? What do you cling to?
How do you find balance
between holding on and floating away?
Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams (Spartan Press) and of a chapter in Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.
Amethyst Review 