An Ode to the Plum Island Salt Pans

I dare to gaze upon a marshland pool
potent with early summer coloring.
The sky is hazy, with a miniscule
amount of blue that lends a seasoning
of depth to water otherwise serene.
The whole perimeter is rimmed in green,
glossed with a luminescent lemon-lime,
a bloom of algae in its salad days.
It doesn’t look as if it’s topped with slime
but rather burnished with an over-glaze,
much like an elegant ceramic vase.
I search for figures drawn upon this place
and spot a Great White Heron at the shore;
some artisan has feathered every line
while following her graceful curvature.
And shivers start to trace along my spine.


copyright 2002 Gregory Perry