Summer springs — an osprey dive,
dead-aimed, streamlined, heated high —
at least for those beyond the shores,
whose youth sprang many years before.
Ah youth, when languid lessons bored.
Reflex tells us prowl and hunt.
Expectation. Daily grunt.
We hoaries fail to read the wind —
A call to peaceful, soulful mend
that languid summer breezes send.
Within the monuments of age,
our humid, foggy, maze-y days,
glint memories once turned our tails —
first leap to flight! that siren wail!
a perfect catch upon the swale.
Bring them! Break all surface ails!
Dear youth, this summer, let us sail.
This is Mich McFarland’s 13th summer on the Vineyard. She currently teaches and writes in Maryland, where she recently received an Outstanding Graduate Award from the Johns Hopkins University Master of Arts in Writing program.