bll@mhuxt.UUCP (Barbara Levin) (06/24/86)
I'm a native Floridian. Though transplanted here in New Jersey for lo these 12 years, I still get homesick now and then... FEELINGS OF HOME by Barbara Levin I feel the warm sand,fine and soft, beneath my feet. I feel the ocean breezes and the palpable waves of heat on my skin. The sun is an incandecent white blaze. It makes sparks dance gaily atop chuckling ripples. The gulls circle gracefully above, laughing at us poor gravity-grappled creatures. They skim the waves daringly, rummaging for tiny fish or the scraps of bait we toss. I hear the slap, slap, slap of the water against the bottom of the boat where it rests moored. I see darting little shallows fish, like flashing silver needles busily embriodering, through water so clear it's like looking through bottle glass. I hear the laughing call of my brother, egging me into a game of chase on the dunes. I feel the sharp sting of dry sea oats whipping across my ankles and calves as I relent and run after him up and down the shifting slopes. Though miles now separate me from these things I love, I have but to close my eyes to conjure up these... ...feelings of home. This poem was written about memories I have of playing games of high adventure with my brother amidst the dunes of Bird Island. An uninhabited islet which lay in Nassau Sound, just north of Jacksonville, Fla. Only those few who could miraculously navigate the oyster reefs could enjoy this untouched paradise. I'm so very glad my memories of Bird Island are still here, because the island is gone now.