Time for Supper

In the salty nectar of the sunshine
A sea gull’s cry from a cloudless blue sky
Carries for miles on the ocean’s wind.

Sweet fields of hay tumble down to the bay,
Where my bare feet play on the sandy banks
Of yesterday.

I race to the tide
And watch the lobster boats moor off shore,
Until Grandmother hollers from the kitchen door

Now fifty years gone, or more,
With the evening light soft upon the harbor-
Once again I hear her calling me home.

Sister poem to Growing Roses and Memories

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