As I turn to go home,
My car pulls me to the left
Drawing me, calling me
To the Stonybrook harbor.
Birds swoop to collect fish
For family's night before
Thanksgiving dinner
By the low tide.
Thick wetted sand
Dimpled by stones, shells;
An eddying thin curve of a stream
Meanders through wetted sand.
Bright sun, in it's last hour
Descends,
While fine misted raindrops
Paint my windshield.
Kathryn Lamberg
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