This summery sonnet reminded me of the sea-sodden, beach-borne summers I’ve spent in the heart of Coney Island and resented for leaving me behind so soon. Each estival dog day ended in a delectable frozen treat, whether it be in the popsicle or conical form. What at first glance appears to be a simple, sweet poem about ice cream one could reminisce about the “how-to’s” they wrote as studious, little toddlers in kindergarten turned into a beautiful representation of lax summers long gone. As we grow and mature, the heavy burden of responsibility weighs down on us like an anchor in a bog.

This poem speaks of carefree summer days spent focusing on only the sound of the crashing waves and the sandy towel your head lays upon. Not only was the imagery incredibly descriptive, it truly placed the reader in the cold waves of the Jersey Shore, sprawled on the sandy beach towel, and seated in the parking lot, ice cream in hand.