WALK
The beach was mine, no one else around.
The summer birds were back in town.
Ducks were resting on the ponds.
The blue heron had not yet moved on.
The labour day guests had called it quits.
Long before the need of mits.
No curious eyes from cabin doors.
No one doing their summer chores.
Leaving only tracks in the sand.
Exploring without a plan.
Each headland a new quest.
For weathered glass or treasure chest.
Even cranberries taste sweet with informal fasting.
A reflective note in passing.