I hear the ocean call in fall –
For others, it’s a summer thing –
But me, it’s water that I seek,
And not merely the sunshine

Another sort of teeming world
That comes to life again in fall,
The way that I do, every year,
When all the swelter’s passed

I’ll head out to the beach again,
The lonely now, neglected beach,
With others watching football in
Their jerseys and their sweaters

A thing, too, that I will do soon,
But not right now, not on this day:
I hear the ocean call in fall,
And I can’t stay


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