I love this beach! I always have –
It’s contours drawn upon my mind like ink.
The shadows of the trees form shapes
Like waffles on a plate; while
The pine trees themselves give off the scent of syrup –
A breakfast for my spirit.
Overhead, I hear two mockingbirds —
They’re telling a bluejay a story about
A raven who lived in a barn that was foreclosed on,
And which involves an evil banker,
A sheaf of magic wheat,
And a dog named Bob.
But their chatter is for another day:
For now, Pine Beach is largely silent.
Far away from WordPress
I seek to understand why it is
Can never tell a joke right