Quinten Palmer

A Day in Maine

The peaceful water ripples on itself.
The reflection displays the face of the person looking.
The mosquitoes leave, now that the sun rises,
And nearly everybody sleeps.
The coffee brews,
And one by one, the people get up and out of bed.
From inside, one could hear
The conversation and morning news,
And outside the children shout,
And they play
Their game of tag.
The wind is now stronger,
And the water is more rough.
And while the sailboat skates along the water’s surface,
The sandcastle towers above the water that threatens it;
The deep hole swallows the sand that enters.
The sunburn’s red glow creeps along the arms and necks.
The Frisbee zips out of the hand that throws it.
It spins and spins like a flattened top,
And it stings the other person’s hand,
Leaving it red and in pain.
The football, too, spirals through the air,
But it rotates more like a speedy clock.
The flames of the barbeque
Start to tickle the food.
The mosquitoes come out,
Faithful to the time of dusk.
The repellant is everywhere,
Yet the mosquitoes still bite.
The horseshoes fly,
And they clank with the pole,
And after, they wrestle their way to stay on that pole.
The score tallies up;
The younger brother wins.
Benches and chairs squeak in protest,
As the people sit down for dinner.
And bit by bit the food disappears.
The stomachs are in pain,
And too full to allow the people to move.
The people watch the evening news,
And after the playing family film,
And everyone enjoys the funny night.
The parents and grandparents wish everyone a good night,
As they head up for bed.
The restless kids are always awake,
Unless you count tomorrow morning,
When they will be asleep until noon,
And by that time,
The coffee’s aroma will have spread all throughout the house,
And the day for the others,
Will have started long ago.


Copyright 2002-2006 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2006 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.