lillian the home poet

She prefers
the zone of morning twilight.
Eyes sensitive to cruelty
ears offended by malice,
she avoids humans.
Shoreline creatures know her well.
Gulls flock to her side.
Cormorants swim nearby.
Black and sleek
they duck beneath waves,
pop up farther down shore.

Her dune shack stands alone
away from prying eyes,
her choice since long ago.
She collects sea glass,
gems given up by the sea.
Handmade dream catchers
flutter in the breeze.
High tides, low tides,
her only sense of time.
Solitude gleaned at ocean’s shore,
the gift she treasures daily.

Written for day 4, NaPoWriMo. April is National Poetry Writing Month. The challenge is to write a poem every day in the month of April.

The prompt for today is to “write a poem in which you take your title or some language/ideas from The Strangest Things in the World.” I’ve chosen the line “the zone of morning twilight” which appears in the Introduction of the book. Photo was taken a number of years ago: a dune shack on Cape Cod’s National Seashore.