top of page
Oil Spill on Beach 50.jpg

The Spill


Andrea Walker

Andrea Walker enjoys writing, teaching part-time at Pensacola State College, walking, swimming and every aspect of nature, especially the beach. She shares her writing in the form of book reviews and viewpoints. She and her husband love spending time with their three children and two grandsons Miles and Nathaniel. "I love to think about angels and hummingbirds," she says.

The day melts away …

I don’t notice

As one unhurried hour dissolves into the next


Mowing, laundry, chores


Once – while I hang sheets on the clothesline –

That suspicious smell makes me look up

Creosote – my senses quicken

I remember what lurks offshore.

Pockets of the malodor

invade on the summer breeze

-- a breeze meant to hold only laughter and innocent memories.



Errands, then tea with a friend –

A lazy, languid respite.


A late thunderstorm

Rides in on angry clouds

And bursts of wind threaten tornado.



Air washed fresh and sweet again,

Leaves and grass glisten in the sunset.

Droplets run down green fruit 

That hangs from the miracle tree.


The frogs next door arrange a date in loud excited tones.

They often meet at my place.



Under a starry sky I swim

In the pool, clean and clear

the water slides over my skin like silk

Soothing, caressing

While words float through my head – graceful,

delicate, elusive  -- like butterflies daring to be captured.


I help a wayward frog out of my territory with the net.

As he hops away, I smile at his good fortune while


I mourn the pelicans and turtles that weren’t so lucky.

bottom of page