A WHITMAN POET

The reef remains
departed from the breeze
and uprooted silences
after the rain leaves acorns
spilling over the home harbor
it's all brightness here
as our footprints hand us
an embrace of shadows
by sparrows dancing feet
over open windy spaces
we move our still life's
and anointed oils
near the shore line
tangled with fishing rods
in a search for eels
after a morning jog
a lobster boatman waves to us
and speaks in Italian
under the glittering sun
as the last summer tourists
fold up beach blue umbrellas
between the silences of the sea
as gulls call out to us
from the docks and roofs
in a chorus of birds
over innocent trees
capturing landscapes
by an art student carries
a drawn brown canvas
full of paints
reaching out by the gazebo
near the park bandstand
a Whitman poet plays riffs
of smooth jazz on an alto sax
as seabird winds voice
by the woods of deer and fox
nearby the underbrush
and new students search
for lost landmarks
under Plymouth's
entangled Mayflower roots
as a guiding first light
on the sandstone,quartz
and unending rocks
opens our eyes
on the ditch waters.