Empty houses
scattered along the line of the shore;
a buffer for the wind
as it roars up from the sea
to wash over the island.

But don't worry,
this
is not a ghost town,
it is by no means barren or desolate;

In one house,
a whole family of otters have taken up residence on the sundeck-
webbed feet resting on the glass table
tails knocking coasters to the floor
gramma, curled up and napping on the best seat.

In another.
the mice
have built their nest in a mailbox
conveniently left open
soon
it's delicate painted flowers
will receive a whole new kind of delivery.

Starlings
have overrun the whole upper floor
of the small yellow house teetering in the edge of the cliffs
they swoop
in and out of the broken attic window,
the whole frame creaking
as it swells with their singing.

The canoes,
lying on their sides next to the dock
have been turned into permanent tide-pools
shelter for the delicate frolicking arms of anemones
and the hard-shelled scuttling *****.

The coast,
is quickly reclaiming
the stakes we tried to make in her.