Pine Beach

Prompted.

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
Smart phone
Mailbox
I seek to understand why it is

That mockingbirds

Can never tell a joke right

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