the darkening hills a triumvirate of crows in the glowing gloom

summer is ending following the rolling sun quite without remorse

Pappa always told me that you should never tell all you… and I found it to be good advice I recall the time I got back from… with my winter stores back in ‘39

a great blue heron watches from a mogul of grass as I scavenge a poem from the marsh Tom Peepety calls

Early morning mist Loon fishing quiet water Shining wake behind

Beneath that secretive smile A strong hot thrust From a sidewalk grate….

crickets and brittle leaves empty seed pods scurrying in the heavy scent of autumn

Seagulls hovering Uneven hills encircle Tide pool reflection

we saw your burnished footprints in the soft beach sand followed them across the sea and through the shattered sky beyo… ‘one small step for man’, he said

it was always said that of all the people on the Island I loved life the best I who had the least but I had all I needed

Life has a way of playing the vile… Or, providing an evener, some migh… I, who did not want to go to war, Seeing the senselessness of it, Stayed at home to work the farm -

I remember the summer of the polio scare we couldn’t go to the cove to swim that whole summer

seek the council of wild things in… leaves that turn their silver side… before the rain slender reeds that accept and bend they will sew your words abroad

All I wanted to do was ride my mo… And make out at Spooner’s Point. But when Mary Daley got pregnant Her father threatened me with the… So I married her and went to work