From at Headland on Long Island
The moaning sound of far off gulls pulses.
It is joined by shrill caws,
And the sound escalates and marries.
Sunlight grabs onto a bright sap green plant,
Clinging to the cliff.
It glows amid the umber sandstone.
The gray bay stretches to the sky.
Two crisp orange and green islands
Rise solidly in front of me.
Sepia islands blend with the water
In the distance,
And wisps of pale mauve islands and headlands
Float on the horizon.
The wind blows relentlessly.
Although the sky is clear and sunny,
I am bundled in coat, sweaters
And jeans over pajamas.
Still I am weary
From the fierce buffeting.
My hat is tied on
And I am hunkered on my stool.
I clutch my paints, paper and brushes
And try to capture everything.