Leaves flutter in the breeze
and how I want to believe
that autumn here will last.

The sea is out, shadows
form long images in fronds
of summer’s sultry charm

When tourist’s oil trickled
and enticed the beaded
drapes of the Bar Maset.

But that door is locked now
closed for the season till
the new owners arrive.

Olive branches burn and lights
glow in the narrow streets
where echoes proudly roar.

Children in navy blue
outfits giggle homewards,
cheeks pink from the cool air.

This night the fishing boats
lie empty, content to
nestle into virgin sands.

This night the harbor calls
out welcomes to even
the tiniest of ships.

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Twilight in Mystic, © Sandra Staas

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