OCTOBER, THE FIRST

It was early October
on the Cape
a poet is playing sax riffs
on the tall dunes
until late afternoon
listening to the last echo
of the trembling wind
between the sea and sky
when a narrowing sunshine
is interrupted by songbirds
shading the Van Gogh eyes
of a sand castle sculptor
within my reach
discovering the purest
of images in the cool air
along the swells and motion
of my orange kayak oars
as a few branches
from a  weekend rainstorm
are spread over ocean waves
when time drifts by morning
in the heart of first light
for a half hour
over a loving hand
no longer in the darkness
or anchored by the shore's
admiring the Autumn dust
amid blazing wild flowers
as Evergreen leaves fall
my words shape our day
hearing children 's laughter
abstracted in my water colors
as one reaches for shells
on the deserted island
amid the liquid silence.