Leslie's in the labyrinth,
the ferry's at the dock
nesting gulls at Settler's Rock
harbormaster, keeping clock.
the light, air, blue-green surf and smell were,
just as hoped, relaxing;
the disembarking goobers'
eavesdropped conversations, taxing.
Moni Shea remembers clearly
Nazi periscopes aspying,
Navy eminent domainers,
and the locals noncomplying.
Skippy's walker's tennis balls
lend purchase, sand or stone,
and leave her gallant young enabler's
parents' minds a little blown.
the seaglass shopkeep wakes the beach
at dawn to sally forth,
the Nibbles server meditates,
calming midnight lighthouse north.
with great machines of iron
stacking back breakwaters he
intends to thus defend the bay,
to keep at bay the wild, wild Sea.
And I, with all these goings on
around me, scarcely need
to crack Capital in the 21st Century,
my (scarcely) planned vacation read.