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}
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