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Huguenot Beach Poem Marguerite Rivas sipoet sipoet1@aol.com I've been revising some of my StatNisland poems for a reading that I'm having in April. Inspired by RS last night, I rewrote this one.

At Huguenot Beach - Sunday Morning

The rusty hinged
mating cry of a pheasant
creaks from the treetops
while the surf surprises
wanderers who have ventured
down the narrow path

to discover the rocks
and broken concrete --
remnants of a road
that once led to the beach
where my heart burned
white in sunlight
rocked blue in moonlight
decades ago.

Now, we venture to the brink
of the conceivable sea
and the impalpable past,
carefully stepping
on careless landings
of hacked pavement,
avoiding broken bottles,
seaweed and rusty beer caps.

Gray air engulfs us
cool and moist;
the sea spills tentatively
at our feet
where I stand moored
in your arms,
a safe berth
between the long-
traveled road
and the
limitless life of the sea.



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