The Longest Day Of The Year Poem by Kirby Wright

Here is the ocean,
This great blue

Melting the coast.
A squirrel finds an apple

At the high tide line,
Runs toward a beach house

Mouthing its prize.
Seagulls huddle on shore

Pretending to be decoys.
Today, we do not age.

Men pushing fifty
Play horseshoes in the sand.

Bikini girls
Play the shallows—

Legs, arms, hands
Honeyed in sun

Beckon from the oily water.
I hear ghosts speaking in waves

But cannot understand
What they’re saying.

They speak all at once,
Like a room full of people

Chattering at a party.
A set becomes music

And then I recognize
Rachmaninoff.