Summer Afternoon by the Sound

Summer Afternoon by the Long Island Sound

I see it as it was, freshly frosted with summer's light

In August, with a shimmering glisten upon the water.

The stillness of the sound sparkling under the sun

as soft conversations glided on with no trace of discontent,

The socially-distanced placement of tables ready for

Multi-colored masks making their entrance,

The clink of glasses toasting the day,

The boats shimmering and the bright sun

Beaming in the glorious sky, colors dancing across water,

Whispers of unheard conversation, clatter of dishes

Passing by with a smoking speciality rising toward

Billowy summer clouds spread against a blue sky-

Stillness was noted as we spoke of anniversaries past.

All these simple visions of an afternoon by the sound

Linger in a time when quarantining changed our summer lives. 

It seems like July 31st was eons ago since a numberless array of dark days on Long Island  have passed after Tropical Storm Isaias raged. This memory was a brief afternoon of summer peace that brought back past Long Island summer days of warmth, free-spirited contentment, and serenity.  Tonight I thought why not lighten my mood so I found Emma Lazurus' poem of a Long Island Sound memory. Using her poem as a mentor text, I concentrated on the images described not the rhyming verse. This choice provided me with more freedom when sharing the sights I saw on Long Island's north shore ten days ago. 

Long Island Sound  by Emma Lazurus

I see it as it looked one afternoon

In August, - by a fresh soft breeze o'erblown.

The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,

A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.

The shining waters with pale currents strewn,

The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove,

The semi-circle of its dark green grove.

The luminous grasses, and the merry sun

In the grave sky; the sparkle far and wide,

Laughter of unseen children, cheerful chirp

Of crickets, and low lisp of rippling tide,

Light summer clouds fantastical as sleep

Changing unnoted while I gazed thereon.

All these fair sounds and sights I make my own.

Last week, I missed writing with Two Writing Teachers because of the power shortage caused by the storm. I did not want to miss the opportunity to connect with friends this week so I am happy to have found quiet time amidst the hectic pace of after-storm clean-up and prepping my house for prospective home buyers. As Slice of Life Tuesday begins, I link up to "engage with the stories of other slicers, connect and support each other as writers, as teachers of writers, and as humans living through challenging times." 

News:

Last month, I was sent an email from Anuj Agarwal, FEEDSPOT, #Feedspot Founder of Feedspot.com.  

I would like to personally congratulate you as your blog, Beyond LiteracyLink has been selected by our panelist as one of the Top 40 Children's Poetry Blogs on the web. 

 This link accompanied the email: https://blog.feedspot.com/childrens_poetry_blogs/.

One Afternoon: Then and Now

As I looked out over the Long Island Sound from the Connecticut shore a few days ago, I noticed how still it appeared. The sky had an azure tint with soft clouds floating like cotton balls. The water surrounding the sleek sailboats rippled ever so slightly. It was if nature had taken a paint brush to enhance the scene. Through the magic of digital tools, I was able to transform the marina scene into one that an artist might envision.

Intrigued by the area, I researched poetry written about the Long Island Sound and found the following, beautifully-crafted poem by Emma Lazarus. It may have been written from her family's summer cottage where poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, Lazarus' mentor, was a visitor. Through Lazarus' words, I was able to see Long Island Sound from her 19th century perspective.

Long Island Sound

by Emma Lazarus

I see it as it looked one afternoon 
In August,—by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown. 
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon, 
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon. 
The shining waters with pale currents strewn, 
The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove, 
The semi-circle of its dark, green grove. 
The luminous grasses, and the merry sun
In the grave sky; the sparkle far and wide,
Laughter of unseen children, cheerful chirp
Of crickets, and low lisp of rippling tide,
Light summer clouds fantastical as sleep
Changing unnoted while I gazed thereon.
All these fair sounds and sights I made my own.

I shall study Lazarus' format in the days to come to write a poem about the Long Island Sound as a comparison to what Lazarus saw.  If anyone of my poet friends can shed light on the format, other than enjambment, that Lazarus used for this poem, I would be interested. While the poem looks like it is a sonnet, it has a different type of rhyme scheme.

In the meantime, I will travel to my poet friend, Heidi Mordhorst's blog site, "my juicy little universe," where she is describing her week-long professional development in Chicago at the Summer Poetry Teachers' Institute.