Here is an excerpt from that poem that is about a group you will all recognize:
All the local folks collect
each evening at the beach.
Sand within their sandals,
and tequila within reach.
They talk the long day over
and orchestrate the sun
to sink beneath the seascape
to prove the day is done.
They come to view the sunset,
though they talk into the night.
It cannot be the sun they seek,
for itís gone out of sight.
When most go home still one or two
stay to feel the night.
Their voices drift over the sand ,
sibilant and slight. . . .
Go here to read the entire suite of poems about what I viewed from the porch of Casa Gaviotas, next to Daniel's:
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