Nothing There #3

Rugged rocky coves and sandy beaches line the shore.

Sometimes
it just
doesn’t come.

There’s just
nothing there,
or not much.

You watch
and listen
but catch
no signal,
see no sign.

Then there
it is, right
in front of you.

A tranquil pool,
the water
smooth as glass
edged in blue stone
surrounded 
by thick summer grass
cut long
watered every morning
making it soft and cool, 
lush as a fresh
beach towel.

A shaded back porch
looks down
upon the pool, 
four stone steps
framing thick 
white columns, 
the space cooled by 
a wooden ceiling fan.

Across the pool 
and far across 
the dark water
of the bay
is Little Compton, 
a village that faces
Portsmouth and Newport, RI.

Rugged rocky coves
and sandy beaches 
line the shore
in every direction,
as does affluence
and luxury 
alongside farms 
and orchards, 
fishing boats and harbors, 
sailboats and yachts 
from around the world, 
and now a vineyard or two.

It’s always been
a high society scene,
a place to be seen,
gilded mansions 
with soaring gables,
sprawling lawns
built by barons 
of yesteryear, 
most now maintained
by the town and some
by today’s new captains
of innovation.

Current residents
lead quiet lives
behind high 
smartly trimmed hedgerows 
and tightly stacked 
flat-stone walls
no more than 
a couple feet tall.

The roads are mostly
two-lane black top
with many blind turns 
and side roads 
and dead-end alleys
that lead to coves
and rocky beaches.

Low grey clouds
frequently roll in
in loose layers,
ominous and foreboding,
before a strong wind
pushes them aside
and they give way 
to higher piles 
of fluffy white 
cumulus clouds 
and bright blue skies.

The water in the pool 
and in the bay 
reflects the blue brilliance above,
locals brace 
for the summer crowds,
visitors return, again and again, 
hoping for the coveted warmth 
of the sun and their 
slice of heaven.