On Scotsman's Bay

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for Jack Browne travelling around Europe

 

The ripe red sun was almost done

It pinked the candy cotton

A croaky boat just half afloat

As though it had forgotten

 

Along the shore beyond the point

The swimmers seemed to be

Caught like flies in honey spilled 

Across a chocolate sea

 

They moved in ones and twos and threes

With words to match their walking

They mooched along through summer's song

Where long-winged birds were squawking

 

The heatwave stilled the waters

It preyed upon the land

The water warmed the air at night

It boiled the silver sand

 

While you are on your journey

Beyond your childhood town

Hanging out between the whims

The world is upside down