There is a place on a hill
Where names don’t matter
And the snow falls
In-between the grass
And into the cracks of the rotting wood benches
And from the gazebo
You can see the snowflakes disappear
When they reach the ocean
And white sails and brown masts
Lie quiet on the water
Moving with the easy wind
And the sun throws her brilliant light
Over the water, fading
From shades of red to the purples and blues of the Atlantic
And the trees that give shade
Are silhouetted against the gently flaming sky
And darkness comes softly and quietly with stars
And when it’s dark
The star on the crane is lit up,
Just a strand of lights in the shape of a star
Hanging from the crane in the harbor
Over the water