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Outer Banks
by
Glenda Council Beall


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Waves eat sand
from under my feet
at this historical place
where the Wright brothers
made the first flight.
They wouldn't know the place
now with beach houses six
rows deep along the beach.
Wild horses once roamed
free here. They are confined
because cars run them over.
Hundreds of ships sank
off the shore in spite of light
houses that blink in the night.
Modern technology moved
the Cape Hatteras beacon
a half mile using Vaseline
to make it slide.
 
I'll come here again, but not
in summer. I'll wait till snow
covers the sand and tourists
have all gone to Aspen.

 

© by Glenda C. Beall.
Used with the author’s permission.

 

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Glenda Beall was raised on a farm in Albany, Georgia, and taught school for many years before relocating to western North Carolina. Widely published in journals, anthologies, newspapers, and magazines, she now teaches writing classes for adults and served for several years as Program Coordinator for the western branch of the North Carolina Writers Network. To learn more about Glenda, visit http://glendacouncilbeall.blogspot.com.

 

 


Post New Comment:
Katrina:
Thanks Supa
Posted 06/13/2015 03:53 AM
rhonasheridan:
I love those sands eating my feet.
Posted 06/13/2015 02:05 AM
transitions:
A thoughtful poem of human indifference ~ to animals, our history and the planet. Too true but so well done.
Posted 06/12/2015 02:17 PM
Supa:
Beautiful but very sad. We've ruined so many places. aspen is ski country.
Posted 06/12/2015 06:17 AM
Katrina:
What happens in Aspen?
Posted 06/12/2015 06:09 AM


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