In the wooden Adirondack chair
Of the house in OBX.
With a book in my lap, and water on the ledge of the chair. Feet and legs curled up under my body.
Listening to the distant sound of the waves, the birds, the cars that travel behind the house on the main road that is mere yards away.
Staring out, over the rooftops of the other vacation get aways,
Towards where the beach is calling.
Sharp angled roof lines as well as flat tops,
Small rectangle pipes popping from the shingles.
Once glancing past the sea of rooftops to see the sky,
Predicting what the weather will bring today.
Ever changing.
