Night falls early on the island with no pollution from light
to interfere. The blackest of black. The only illumination
a diamond studded firmament, with a brilliant pathway
dividing it in two. The Milky Way is visible arching
northeast to southwest. A magical experience standing on
windswept beach. Salt breezes waft inland from the ocean.
Many a crystal night shooting stars dance across the sky,
carrying wishes as they vanish in a wink. Moonlight
flickering off the surface as the sea rises and falls with each
breath. Froth caressing the edges in lacy patterns reflecting
the lunar effluence. The sound of waves crashing on the
shore echo through the ebon night, as an eerie wind whistles
through the marsh grass, conjuring up images of long lost
souls. Ghosts of pirates that once made Ocracoke Island
their stronghold walk there still. Emotions rising with each
heartbeat, a flight of wonderment takes hold. Warm moist sand
creeps between my toes as I walk along the dunes. I can
stand there forever looking upward at the magic that enfolds
me. A place of wonder and delight takes my imagination
to some unknown place from where I may never return.
The night was meant for this.
About the Poet
Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. She lives in Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and three cats. Her most recent credits are: Ethos Literary Journal, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Synchronized Chaos, Pangolin Review, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.