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The wind drifts in from Sanibel,
On her journey around the bay,
She dances through the kapok trees,
As spoonbills glide and play.

While o'er the harbor gulf clouds curl,
And climb deep lucid skies,
While fleeted friends on thrones unfurl,
Rich treasures for our eyes.

With flowers in their glories robed,
And the bayward piper's song,
And hours spent in quiet coves,
Of days in sunlight long.

Could indeed, this be such a dream,
Where Eden's history sleeps?
And the beauty is just what it seems,
Gifts for our memories keep.

For once you've seen a manatee,
Or a dolphin make his run,
Or walked the shells that vails the key,
And touched the golden sun.

Then the wide world is no longer wide,
And the spirit not so free,
For no matter where you spend your days,
'Tis here your heart shall be.

– Terry Moore ©2015