The sun high
in the blue
beamed all
its radiant might.

A good-natured breeze
comforted —
always the salt
of an Island.

The day was as
one would want
for wonderful respite
after a long, soreful hike.

I lay on
my mother’s deck
in her chaise-lounge
with cushion.

Pale green swayed
as youthful packs
and the oak branches
rustled in play.

I looked out
over the meadow
the week’s paper
in my hands.

A small bird and crow
emerged over
the bank of woods
in tremorous flight.

The earthy bird
of little peeps
just above and behind
made pursuit.

The midnight crow
of the loud caw
meek in fear
fled the field.

I could only smile
and turn back
with disinterest
to the week’s paper

on this luxurious day.