HUTCHINSON ISLAND AT DUSK
on the cusp of day and nighton the steps at the top of the dune
the westering sun behind me
scissoring palm trees
and sea grape into black silhouettes
ahead of me the sea is already dark
save three pinpoints of light
at the horizon
small craft,
perhaps a dozen souls at sea
the hurly burly waves do not heed the setting sun
but shoulder each other aside
to reach the sand
the anglers leave their sentry posts though
and hurry from the beach for home and hearth
I walk the now deserted strand
waiting for turtles and tides
- Ken Peters
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