72 degrees, balmy beautiful

Oh glorious day!

your blue jean skies and sapphire seashore

glittering like a New Year’s gown

your racing plovers chubby from summer’s feast

and warm white sands littered with dried kelp;

your stony, tidal islands

protecting us from ourselves.

A lone seagull stands

sentry at my blanket

as I count five last boats–

a vestige of summer’s crowds.

Rhythmic waves pause in meditative breath,

slipping noiselessly to shore.

When Mars was close in our late summer skies

and I depleted from hosting hordes,

September dawned

a glorious chapter

in the long book of my life.