At the end of a long summer's day,
there is a great splash
as we jump into the icy, cool harbor.
Climbing out we're soaking wet.
Wiping off we make our way off the dock and
sit in the dew-covered grass and watch as the last rays of light
dance over a wall of trees across the harbor.
Under and alongside boats, fish swim against the current,
an otter breaks the surface, rolling onto his back,
and in his furry, little hands: a clam shell.
Now, new bronze coins leap close from our pockets
dropping, with a thud, in the bright, green grass.
In the dark but warm night,
the old earth's smell curls around us,
as we watch the first boats loosen their ropes
wavering in their spots as the full moon rises high in the sky.
Share This Poem