Summer Isle by Del Wynn


By Del Wynn

The fiery orb ignited

The torch to morning sky,

set to flame the darkness of the night.

A new day at its dawning,

feline stretch and yawning,

seagulls loudly calling,

rise and shine.

Spring lines cast from bollards

as the ferry slips her berth,

gentle breeze blowing to her stern.

Klaxon blares a warning,

massive engines churning,

the ferry’s bow is turning

out to sea.

Come the joggers and the walkers

huff and puff, their cheeks aglow

as the slothful lie dreaming in their beds.

At first light the wary slumber

unconcerned and unencumbered

They’re among the many numbered

Still asleep.

A Marsh Hawk soars this morning

as the sun ascends the sky,

bearing feral witness to this da.

A summer’s day is a treasure,

a transcendental pleasure,

“God I love this weather.”

It’s summertime.

December 4, 2002

Nantucket; Massachusetts

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