Plum Island Word Problem

 In the perfect arc of sand dunes, sound
 becomes cosine and tangent for the known
 world. Steady rows of distant waves
 pause only for the punctuation of
 local breakers. Wind multiplies breeze
 upon breeze. Quotations filled with
 the high-strung chirpings of chevronned
 shorebirds parenthetically drift by.
 Even the sky divides this pastoral product
 from time to time with its own intermittent
 schedules: a prop-job leaves the local
 airport every half-an-hour while
 a jet plane circles overhead upon the hour.
 Which dissonance will meet me half-way today?

copyright 1998 Greg Perry