The Island - Richard Shindell

Island life does have its charms

The constant sun, the steady breeze

Nothing ever happens here

Few are those who do not fall beneath the spell

It’s language is an orphan branch

But one that I can understand

Its cadence is familiar

It shares the old declension from the continent

I came here with a package deal

Everything all prearranged

Three nights at the Grand Hotel

Where all the rooms have ocean views

By latitude and longitude

Mariners will not arrive

Its coordinates are plotted

By its relative position to the rising sea

The lucky few who call it home

Are prosperous and confident

And they manifest a certainty

That, come what may, things will not be otherwise

But time is on the ocean’s side

The beaches shift, the cliffs erode

Though the engineers do what they can

Everyday another house just slides away