Early June finds me cold, indoors, reading.
The maple out front rocks in a light wind.
The sea surface is buried again, while
for several days the air above it thickens
in a misty gray. The ocean’s greatest
pleasure arrives here when summer is over,
when out-of-towners depart to such
busy cities. My wooden bench empties.
Trash bins rest their hungry mouths
for another season. It is then that the
sun makes long appearances. I put down
my books and step out into nice warm days.