A Walk on Monhegan: an Excerpt                       

 The path opens to tote road
leaving wood-dusk with the sweet 
odors of fir balsam
and skunk cabbage. 
A wood-cock churrs.

 The village is washed and fragrant
(fresh home-made bread and butter
in the garden)
The morning-glories and the lady
of the morning glory,
the loping young man
in floppy rubber boots share
no emotion he can share
no thought except themselves except
themselves they share
opening like the open air,
pleasing him by knowing his name.
The brown-haired girl
(as the hair rumples down
sunlight brushes gold)
grows to a daughter as she turns
her head to look,
her smile to answer.

 George Anthony
from The Road to Deadman Cove.
Reprinted by permission.