I am fond
of my tiny corner
of the world: small
towns, beautiful beaches,
artists, writers, musicians.
Early springtime greenery
gardens carefully tended
buds, blossoms abound
fragrance, elegance
welcome caring hands.
Cool summers, tourists
escape urban chaos, climate
sun-lovers tan, children frolic
surfers catch waves, kites fly high
campfires with sunsets.
Autumn colors surprise,
sun drifts farther south,
north winds grow frigid,
exiled in ghost towns.
guardians remain quietly.
Fierce winter storms
chill hands, feet,
warm fireplaces found
on dark, forever evenings
space to write poetry, prose.
I am fond
of gentle seasons, people
along North Oregon Coast,
never seek to leave
my tiny corner of the world.
‘Tis a fine place that we call home. Steve, thank you for capturing why we live on this narrow strip of coast land called the Upper Left Edge. It is a gentle place with fierce moments, for sure. Nestled in our niche along sandy beaches surrounded by forested peaks is an okay place to be. Your poem gives all the reasons why.
You’ve captured such a beautiful ache and optimism of the decrescendo from one season into the crescendo of the other.
What a sweet journey.
Really makes me want to see Oregon for the first time!