Some twenty miles to the south
over the waters I now gaze upon
is a beach I once sailed to
from this very shore
nearly forty years ago
in a ten foot ten inch boat that I had built —
great therapy for a mid life crisis.
It is morning now,and calm
and sea gulls wait for the day on rocks
with different memories than mine
and with different hopes
for their unfolding hours.
Now I see two men in a red row boat
the same color as the sails
that once powered me over the Sound.
They are gliding over its surface
heading toward the red of the rising sun.
Perhaps they, too, will have this day to recall
when their years assemble
and have forged fond memories.