
A cool breeze blows to shore from Long Island Sound. The leaves of a nearby oak rustle in it. I close my eyes, feeling the refreshing cold sensation on my face. Listening to the soft ripple of water lapping rock.
Glenn Island Park may be the Bear Mountain of New Rochelle, as Mira suggests. Right now, though, with so few people walking it’s asphalt paths, it’s our sanctuary along the shore.
low tide
the distant towers
of the Whitestone
My Better-late-than-never contribution to dVerse Poets’ Open Link Night 346 โ September Live Edition

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