This poem makes me envious of the two people and their wonderful summer.

And We Will Make Silence

The deer outside our bedroom window

is inches from the screen.

We hunch, whispering, close and still.

We have grown on this island

like seeds under cotton mesh,

bulbs under glass.

We play in this terrarium of sun, moisture and heat.

Cycling paths – strengthening our legs.

Rowing creeks – building shoulders.

Strokes in warm ocean waters – stretching our backs.

And hearts coddled with open-ended time we spend together.

We have few amenities,

but all the peace of mind

our creative souls take hold of.

He will make a boat, a graceful chair.

I will make a teabag print, a sculpture from clay.

And we will make dinner.

And we will make silence.

And we will make love.