You welcomed me with closed eyes on the last evening of September.
When I lit a fire you got warm inside rousing two flies, now and then hovering close to the flames like sleepy old winos.
Undemanding and quiet you made me settle down. I fetched a log for the fireplace and fell towards eternity listening to the waves only interrupted by small sounds from drying wood.
No speedboats or cries from feeding gulls in the morning. No hamburgers and overprized pints. on the tables by the marina. Paradise returns with empty beaches. as undisturbed cormorants turn to icons, unfolding their black wings on the rock below the lighthouse.
Before I leave a promenade along the narrow road. A fisherman with lobster traps. A yawning cat. A caterpillar.
