The following poem by Emma Young, West Tisbury poet laureate, was read at town meeting.
I wake up
with an olive branch
between my teeth.
I breathe
breath of trees
on ground to keep.
Offhand, I share
my winter stores with
someone from elsewhere.
A stranger asks
after my interests
with curiosity.
I do not hear
sound that slanders
mine or any ear.
A light goes on.
One by which we
read, and speak.
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