The heavy door is embellishedWith a whale knockerAnd on the side a doorbellThat no longer rings.You walk up the porch stepsAnd turn the cold metal knobPushing against the forceThat never wants you to open the white door.This is my Sag Harbor.The houses are smallWith dogs running out in the yardAs you walk into the town.Pass the little ice cream parlorAnd the restaurant with live lobstersWatching you pass with fishy eyes.And pass the toy storeCrowded with kidsHolding quarters to get their turn on theCoin-operated fire engines.This is my Sag Harbor.A shimmering turquoise is the color of theWharf.Where huge crew ships,Put down their anchors,And tie themselves to the dock.The sailboats can be seen for miles,Clipped to their buoys,Floating on the surface like butterflies,In a peaceful order,Until a motorboat comes racing through,Creating waves.At the beach you see the rolling sand dunes,And the pebbles that litter the lining of the incoming wave.Like lace the rocks encircle each other,On the wet sand contrasting beautifully withThe deep blue of the ocean,And the lighter sky.This is my Sag Harbor.