Annie’s Island

It’s small,
but it has all she needs,
the dock where boats come and go
bringing family, friends,
and a chair arm wide enough
to hold a cup of tea
and greet the dawn,
a porch where you can watch the sun set,
where the long table waits
for sons and daughters, nieces, nephews,
companions,
to share the meal prepared
in the warm kitchen,
with eggplant and tomatoes,
mushrooms, and corn
washed and chopped and cooked
till flavors blend,
where everyone has a place
to work,
and all find time to clean
so counters are ready now
for the next meal.
And at night,
Annie’s room brings cooling breezes
off the water,
when the moon,
rising above the nest of pines,
breaks free and sparkles on the water,
and sleep comes early
and deep,
like the river
flowering in silver ripples
all around Annie’s island.