An August week for sure,
when morning light arrived more slowly,
and the sun set before we were ready to lose its light.
A week when rose hips began
their more subdued replacement of earlier beach roses,
and when Queen Anne’s lace and clover lined the canal.
A week of noticeable difference in the light
and the deepening of shadows as we wandered
familiar paths along bogs, beaches, and canal.
A week that included the familiar
sights and sounds of the Chart Room,
and chicken piccata at home.
Comfort of the constant in times of so much change.