The long winter gives way to warm weather. The school year is over. Summer is here. It’s time
to escape to the island where the magic happens for another fourteen glorious days of teenage independence. The island greets us like an old friend. The cool salty air feels good on the skin as the sun goes down. The eerie dark and quiet make for easy sleep. With one eye open we anxiously await sunrise to begin what would be our final adventure.
Up at dawn to cast for stripers
that live along the rocky shore.
We catch a fish, we lose a hook, we get sunburned. It doesn’t matter. We are in our favorite place doing what we love most. This is our time.
The sun, the warmth, the sound of lapping waves, distant gulls, chugging lobster boats. It all becomes heavenly white noise.
We blend into the scenery
as the hours pass by without us even noticing.
Casting from the surf
we talk. We laugh. We forget time. We forget to eat.
We have no cares or concerns. We are where we are meant to be
and nothing else matters in this moment.
Night comes and it’s time to retreat. We reflect on the day and the fish that got away. Sunrise can’t come soon enough as we are anxious to pick up where we left off.
Each new day is a repeat of the previous. It never gets old. We could live this life forever, but there is no escaping time. The calendar is our enemy and this foe has tracked us down.
Fourteen days have quickly passed and it’s time to go, but I think
things will always be like this (won’t they?).
We will be back next year. Next summer. Every summer (won’t we?).
We’ll always be best friends (won’t we?).
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It’s been years since I’ve spoken to my old best friend.
There was no next summer as I had assumed.
There has been no island, no surf, no gulls, no fish, no empty hooks, no lost hooks, no sound of chugging lobster boats.
What happened to those endless summer days on that magical island? Talking. Laughing. Casting. Catching. Not catching.
We drifted apart like our old fishing lures in the surf.
His went one way, mine another.
What happened?
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Ekphrasis poem I wrote for ENG 201. Spring Semester 2023.
(Art credit: William McCalmon, Long Island, ME)
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Ekphrasis poem I wrote for ENG 201. Spring Semester 2023.
(Art credit: William McCalmon, Long Island, ME)