By RAHN ADAMS
The setting sun shone / in the window / of the great room / with the cathedral ceiling.
Every day at dusk / we walked together / past this bright house / on Fairmont Street
As we headed back / from the beach strand / or the tennis courts / on the island.
From the water tower / to the waterway, / the unmarked pavement / ran south to north,
Letting twilight die / a golden death / in the highest peak / of this vacant second home.