Newport Online

It was hot going across on the water taxi.
Salty perspiration, streaming from beneath
My wide-brim sun hat, burning my eyes.
I feel each of my sixty years as I, tottering,
Push the walker up the aluminum gang plank
With lawn chair hanging from the two beach unbrellas
That I'd positioned in the walker's basket to hold it:
Can't carry too much these days.
I'm in complete despair: too hot, too fat; too old
To be at this festival I think as I sit down next
To a tent
Just outside the gate while my friend totters
To "will call"
Then, I hear them: muted trumpets pouring out
Cooling sounds
That goes down the throat of my hot thirsty soul like
Cold lemonade
And I know I'm where I belong- I'm home.
Yeaaah..