May 22, 2009

From at Headland on Long Island

The moaning sound of far off gulls pulses.

It is joined by shrill caws,

And the sound escalates and marries.


Sunlight grabs onto a bright sap green plant,

Clinging to the cliff.

It glows amid the umber sandstone.


The gray bay stretches to the sky.

Two crisp orange and green islands

Rise solidly in front of me.

Sepia islands blend with the water

In the distance,

And wisps of pale mauve islands and headlands

Float on the horizon.


The wind blows relentlessly.

Although the sky is clear and sunny,

I am bundled in coat, sweaters

And jeans over pajamas.


Still I am weary

From the fierce buffeting.

My hat is tied on

And I am hunkered on my stool.

I clutch my paints, paper and brushes

And try to capture everything.