We walk tandem well past midnight,
Summer tempests mad and young.
The air charged thick with salt and clouds
And cherry ice still on our tongues;
Sandals dangling off hooked fingers,
Remnant sand between our toes;
Soles pressed lightly to the pavement
Slicked with rain and indigo.
Quiet laughter seals in spaces
Left unfilled by ocean’s roar.
Ancient streetlamps flicker hazy
As we pass by corner stores;
Joined together hand in hand — we
Two bodies wade through the gale
While lightning bounces off the coast
And your painted fingernails;
Over Seaford on a bridge with
Wind-swept hair and noses red.
Leering thoughts about September
Hover over both our heads;
Porch lights crest around the turnpike
We go in through your back door.
Plant myself into your sofa
Like the countless times before;
Stories travel back and forth as
Storms wage war upon the beach,
Your lips part as if you have a
Homily you need to preach.
Talking turns to my departure,
As we dry our soaking clothes
Against the glow of TV screens,
Hearts and bodies left exposed;
Staring straight into the future,
Met with nothing but abyss,
I intone with all assurance
“I know this and only this:
It must be an Intervention
(Of some Godly, cosmic breed)
Gave me August in Delmarva
And a chance for us to meet.”
When I’m settled back at home, your
Cadence just a reverie,
The transience of our acquaintance
Will have no effect on me;
Though, all the talks we did exchange,
Not one had ever carved so deep
As when you told me everything
Upon the briny Chesapeake.
5 thoughts on “August in Delmarva”
Very nice. *snaps fingers*
Through your writing , I was THERE…thank you.
I could actually smell the rain. Absolutely beautiful.
Wow….just wow. It is wonderful to know the museum for the written word carries on through our family. Love you Miss Julia!
Yeah…that was muse stupid autocorrect!