by Margery Gordon Burstein
Reprinted from Adirondack Reflections, Volume XVI
Each summer's stay
sun's shimmer invites me to the dock.
Her windmoving skirt glimmers.
Her splendid welcome
lures me to my favorite place.
Feet up. Head back.
Now, a deep breath.
Look west over Big Island.
Another deep breath.
Life's a pleasant blur through half-closed eyes.
A twelve years old I cried
"It's shimmer time!
I'll be back later, Mom."
Years later the ritual continues.
Memories mingle with changing designs as precious.
Her decorative jewels reflect light and dazzling heat: