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
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