Few are the sights
To be seen more fair
Just as the sun
Attends to dawn's chores
With my unrustable
Red plastic kayak
Pulled high on a bight
Of East End sand
While a gull screeches
And a lone trawler
Drones its way across
Shinnecock Bay
There hangs
The gibbous moon
Off to the southwest
Atop of a litmus sky
That expresses the delicacy
Of this early light best
From acid to neutral to base
A gradient both exquisite
And spare
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2UEx45M590vYKADC5uWj_GtPEK7opzasWglwTGakMcm5A-WfE7zrY_yhlcIVU8FN-_XBSu4bcbLqVMuvGRQ9W0HnZO8Fj4HMw4rgu8fglKL2XYvQUzoLkQdyW96GAm3gGeM1qPSPxylq/s1600/edg_owc_moonharbor-8745.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment