THE OUTER BANKS

 

 By the Graveyard of the Atlantic

The children hunt for sand crabs,

And a man flies a child’s kite

That the twilight veils with a shadow.

 

Yesterday somebody dug a big hole,

And heaped sand around it into a wall.

The children climb out of it, then back in—

Around and around it, squealing with glee.

 

It seems that they play without ceasing,

While the sky lowers with windy rain clouds;

And the kite is a vague recollection

Attached by a string to the ocean of night.