It’s the first day of Summer!

Summer!

Summer!

Summer!

And, I bet,

Even Jesus feels grateful.

My first visitor of the day,

Down at the Lighthouse dock.

Paddling his canoe,

Is Michael,

A Mi’kmag Indian.

I know little of his language

Which I regret.

But I know he calls this island

Quak’m’kagan’ik

Which means “a piece cut out.”

A good enough description.

These poor bastards are getting shafted

By the “civilization”

We have brought.

But, they like me,

(As I do them),

And have pity that

I’m stuck out here with no

Family, nor village,

To fill my days.

So, they sometimes bring gifts

As they head down the coast.

Today it’s fresh salmon.

Paw,

My cat/kitten

Black as Mi’kmag hair

With one white mitten,

Is sore curious.

He gives Michael

A good laugh, as he

Gently shoos him away.

But Michael, and I,

Full well know

That Paw will get his share,

As,

I suspect,

Does Paw.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen/A lot of stuff to report}