Charles Island

There is an island

Where the egrets nest,

Wild, white ornaments

In flight,

Yet gauche on the graceful

Curves of the branches.

.

It is here that my hope resides,

It’s cacophonous call,

Carried to me

By the on-shore wind.

A cackle that cracks

And slaps over the waves,

Streaking my cheeks

With the sputum

Of spume and spray.

.

And the sand-bridge

That I have so often traversed

To retrieve it

Has been voraciously

Consumed by the tide.

.

© M. G. Iannucci 2016

“…the needy have hope and inequity shuts its mouth” (Job: 5:16).

 

Photo: Charles Island Milford, CT

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