Black Friday

Mount Sinai Harbor, 2009 by Annie Labriola

Mount Sinai Harbor, 2009 by Annie Labriola

Where are all the sails?

 

They’d normally be out

on a mild November day,

or at least the kayaks and canoes

shifting on the glassy bay.

 

The sun shines so bright,

through pale curtains of fluff.

 

But where are all the sails?

 

I wonder.

Where are all those geese paddling to?

Some pocket of fish perhaps?

The breeze tickles their soft, waving feathers.

It’s a mild breeze

that wakes the sagging marsh grass into song.

“Wuuuushhuuuuuuu…” I hear them breath.

 

I peak around the shoreline pines.

Their sunlit cones sparkle and sway.

It’s a curious thought.

 

Where are all those sails?

 

I peak along the coast,

where tidal flow meets sandy reserve.

There are no sails here,

no sails at all.

If you’re looking, there are only seashells and corals,

bits of amber stone sewn into the tapestry of the shore –

the ever-playing art on full display.

 

But still no sails.

 

I’m the only one, it seems.

Down by this bay.

It’s just me, and the sails,

laying hidden, far within the wonders of this bay.

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