Leveler Poetry Journal
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Chautauqua:  Nights On The Beach


Chautauqua’s tiny hills, stone steps;

branches arch over.  A child’s chapel

keeps meditative exploration

sacred in me, my small figure

carrying a raft towards a big clock

on the beach.

I like when night starts in, makes

views hard; my parents squint to see me

scamper over grass in distance.  Always,

I submit, running back to them.


I compare my inflated raft to clouds.  Feels like

I lift a sky like blankets

under little fingers, striped shirt.


Bathroom under the looming clock.  I drop

my new stuffed bear in a toilet

by accident.  Pull him out; run


Lee Boyle