Summer has a languid sensuality that speaks in poetry.
Years ago, thinking toward retirement, I reasoned that if we lived by the sea, our family and friends would not have to choose between taking a vacation or visiting us. We wanted a home that offered both. We are a half block from the water where we launch kayaks and paddle to the first barrier island, Rachel Carson Reserve, and sail to others, Shackelford Banks and Cape Lookout, which are pristine national parks. We have a verdant garden for grilling and croquet, and scenic porches for sipping wine, reading, and chatting. The old graveyard is a quiet spot for a morning walk. The downtown docks capture glorious sunsets. So here we gather our friends and family in summer, and when I am alone, I think of these blessings and pen a verse or two. Here are a few to share with you:
Shackelford Banks
Agate sky, no clouds appear
Sails raised, gulls aloft, stay clear
Boating by the port and summer pod
Of dolphins gliding up and down and
Round our happy party of four plus dog
Anchor on the inlet shore
In a thicket of boats and beach ball affairs
By fishing poles lined up in the sand
Radios blaring and folding chairs
Feet in the water, cold beer in hand
Just beyond, the forest calls
Follow a path so shady and lush
By an inland pond, wild ponies play
They smell us, see us, and gallop away
On a maze of trails deep in the brush
Beyond the forest, over the dunes
The emerald sea is now our quest
We pause in awe, a crystal rapture
Till the Orange Billed Oyster Catcher
Dances to lure us away from her nest
Down the beach, we search for shells
Keeping one and tossing three
Sun is hot, wade into the sea
Gentle waves, great for paddling
Now to the sand for book talk and napping
In a puff of clouds, the sun's going down
The forest return spills us onto the bay
Pull up the anchors and sail away
Diamonds in the water
Our day is crowned
Alone with the Summer Night
Stretched out on the porch swing
Late at night, gently swaying
White, globular, flowers
On the crepe myrtle, fat in summer glory
Spray like fireworks against the dark sky curtain
The tiny green tree frog with the raucous call
Bids me from my respite to his revelry
And I find the little critter
Singing from the fountain in the herb garden
Which leads me to a puddle of light
Luring me to look up at the full moon
Laced in leaf shadows of the old oak
Welcome
Patter of footsteps
Two pots of coffee
Platter of pancakes, two kinds
Can't eat that; no chocolate chips
House full
Gallons of lemonade
Packed for the beach
Don't forget the sunscreen
How about me, howls the dog from the door
House full
Croquet and chili dogs
Corn on the cob
Melon kebabs with lime zest and salt
Grab some plates, oh the dishwasher's full
House full
Lights out
All to bed
Tomorrow again
Early to rise
House full
Gathering In
My heart hangs heavy like wet beach towels
Lined on porch rails in hued celebration
Of summer days and family jubilation
Floating in stories of roads less traveled
Picking shells of your dreams to be unraveled
A cherished re-bonding from our lives cast apart
Time to fold and store the memories we made
Dad’s sizzling grill and round of croquet
Ginger peach pie and the scent of mint;
Garner’s farm corn dripping with butter and
The sweetness of gathering you round my table,
Round my heart.
Photo credits:
Stan Rule contributed the orange billed oyster catcher photo. All other photos by the author.
Commentaires