Summer's fall and the island came alive
With bark canoes and temporary tents
And trails under the live-oaks like today's.
They had come from the North perhaps in search of food
Or even as we, in search of summer sun.
When in ages past it was the sheeted ship,
Pirates hiding from deeper ports where soldiers marched
And Spaniard, Frenchman, Ogelthorpian ruled
As if astronauts upon a brand new planet . . .
And the dunes magnificent, the same heaped high
Enough to hide ten thousand rogues that roamed
The Indian trails in search of means to plunder.
And when the states became inflamed with war
The island slept and was no great advantage
To North or South. It was a dull outpost,
Too far from commerce to be worth a battle.
Left behind you seem to me Darwinian shores,
Truly a piece of earth with just the right
Example and right modicum of man.
Look to the East on a day when the boats are missing.
Hold your breath, and the years recede, recede.
The island then becomes its early self --
Red man and pirates, kin of Carnegie,
Birds and turtles and the ancient horseshoe crab,
Rub your eyes with monumental wonder.
Jay Cohen