In the 80s yesterday, same today. An early wake-up for the Outer Banks. I'm sitting on my balcony overlooking the ocean at 8 am. Not many people out yet. The waves are small. Birds taking advantage of the morning.
Reading Billy Collins' Horoscopes for the Dead
Before me, calamare,
red wine in a goblet,
water with a lemon wedge and thin black straw.
The light is fading behind me, to the east,
and dinner service sounds surround me here.
I am alone this evening,
with unseasonable weather bringing people to this shore,
the quiet ocean on the other side of the slender dune
unheard amongst the gentle chiming of the silver
and the china
(give them their lofty names).
The book is open to the poem "Simple Arithmetic"
which fits quite well tonight
when I am here alone,
surrounded by the sounds of others, dining,
and the unheard ocean
beating on the unseen shore.
Just before sunrise (see the waning moon in the sky).
Here comes the sun...