we envision:
two story ranch style homes set up against minute forests, a sound barrier from the southern state parkway. the robert moses causeway connecting this piece of winding highway to the beach. the sun gathering over the bridge, striped with rays, rays below in the bay, crossing over to fire island, engulfed in the dawn. the dunes receding into the background as the sea takes back its harsh advances on our space: it no longer wants to lay waste the land we’ve wasted. all of the planting of dune grass has convinced it to let us be. the shells gathered on the wave break at this low tide time, the moon determining where on the sand we can stand. taking your hands from your gloves, you dip only the tips of your fingers in the ice water. there are still birds despite the snow. there are still deer despite the hunters. there is still hope despite the seemingly endless cold.