Sunday, July 1, 2007

Hadley Beaches



That old Adirondack weathered
gray and smooth by other hands
in other seasons. Every spare summer
day planted just on the edge
of some absent farmer's field,
I sat quietly, head back on the slats,
as if looking for a miracle,
a beach to appear or at least
a gull or two perhaps just one
glorious sunset to justify a vigil.

3 comments:

Roust said...

It's cute. Sorry, that's the best I can do. It's a nice cute little poem. It's a bit withered though. Maybe a little TLC could perk it up.

Steve said...

I'm not sure about the word "absentee"; Can't tell you why, it just hits me wrong.

This is good stuff here:

I sat quietly, head back on the slats,
as if looking for a miracle,
a beach to appear or at least
a gull or two perhaps just one
glorious sunset to justify a vigil.

This seems short for you PB. I like it. One image, one emotion, and to the point. Nice.

-Steve

P.B. said...

Roust, I know what you mean but I didn't intend this to be profound rather just a snapshot of a moment in my life and what it may say about me then or some people is open to the reader to decide. :)

Thanks, Steve. I think you're right about absentee but I couldn't think of another word for it. Maybe it isn't important for the reader to know the field was neglected by a very part time farmer who lost interest in it frequently. Dunno. I'll mull it over. Thanks very much for the comments. Cheers!

Legal Stuff

All works posted here are under the sole and exclusive ownership of the author or artist. Do not reproduce or otherwise copy any work on this site without the expressed written consent of the author or artist.

§ P.B. Adams, Webmaster