Sun's up early.
Slat-backed chairs lean away from the bay
and wait for straw-hatted visitors
to hunker with books the way
gulls ensconce on rocks by the shore.
Upstairs in the inn
a teenage housekeeper is already at it--
briskly strips beds, vacuums floors,
snickers to her boyfriend on her cell.
Winter gripped this island hard.
In retaliation flowers uprise.
Starry clematis rocket ramparts,
and apple blossoms mass on wind-twisted limbs.
Lupines and buttercups grasp, splash violet and lemon
over steel gray rock and marsh meadow.
Wherever lilacs do not bloom, natives plant.
The morning ferry carried flats of purple petunias.
Later, fog erases the bay.
A suggestion of a house inhabits a yard
like a ghost with pockets full of stark memories.
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