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Montauk Poetry Poetry By Michael Berger
early morning by montauk point.
cool windy air surrounded by the dark dank dullness of night, soft waves pitter-patter the shoreline, awaiting the glimmer of day break, a remedy restored to full glory; good morning sunshine!
there be the sun, blinking pink silhouette jutting above the water line, a small semi-circle of brightness breaking above sealevel, another special day in montauk in store, a bearer of standardized lore, it's story; the given rise of the heavenly ball of benign light, dressed in hues of winking pink, mellow yellows, soft reds instead, a panoply reflected shades mirrored in watery colors on calm seas aglow;
as a days dawn is rapidly approaching, the nascent sun grows upon the horizon, moving both upward and westward, lighting the sky in a myriad of color pronounced presence are magnified against the still darkness of the lighthouse tower in the fore shaded like a crow; the large grassy knoll begins to reflect a buttery yellow with orange peels pervading lights dancing and prancing opening a vista evoking a new days show;
it's sunny early morning, sunlight everywhere, the human eyes capture a visual working composition of color, structure,and content of the sun's motion, in rotation, reflected in waters formed fluid flows array;
the rare beauty of this enchanted site is teeming with life, yonder, a small herd of deer grazing by a grassy knoll near woods, a lone fisherman surfcasting the shoreline his rod punching air foward finding its mark upon still waters, his line in tow; his companion, a lab, pacing the sandy shore, sniffing and searching for his wooden stick to be thrown waters way for a wet tour tides low;
off shore, a small motorboat cutting across the water moving westward, experiences the splender of today's sunrise, a day of fun ahead searching the wonders of montauk's infinite places of play;
on the northside of the point,a small sailboat, sails blown eastward, upon the horizon, floats on calm seas, allured and alighted in alacrity,a day's sailing ahead in watery ways;
it is now mid-morning, a spring forward sunny mild time, a moments reflection to consider, famous writers and poets have been viewing our famous lighthouse, and the waters which surround it's prominence, walt whitman for one, over a century ago, perhaps from where i am standing now; to view the splendor of soft rich hues of color by natures artistry, of bontiful uncommon beauty of long island's eastern tip on the south shore, the glorious lighthouse, partially shaded from direct sunlight, its shadows beckons, bending down to offer its bow!;.......
so it goes/mb
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