Thursday, July 28, 2016
People living on an island,
Find their world very small…
They can drive in any direction,
And eventually circle it all.
Non locals seek prescription drugs
To ward off chronic ennui,
They spend Friday nights in ferry lines
Thinking the boat will set them free.
These “Renters” missed the lightning,
The rainbows, and storm clouds in the sky,
Eagles, bunnies, hurricane winds,
The seaplanes that we fly.
But, mostly we walk one hundred feet
To discover a brand new beach,
Secret forests, fern lined trails,
Our important things within reach.
Sipping wine at local parties,
We discuss our new found places.
Retreating daily to our homes…
Our individual sacred spaces.