The Wheel Waits for Spring

One last flight showed the whole week at once: the harbor and its raised arm, the bridge, the green park, and at the edge, a giant still wheel.

The wheel was built on the beach in nineteen twenty, made of steel, and has never moved. It still turns today. Most of the other rides were already closed for the season, waiting for spring.

Nearby, a small stand still sold hot dogs. A young couple started it long ago with very little money, selling each one for five cents, half the price of a bigger stand close by.

Polly landed on the empty boardwalk. Birds walked the sand where crowds had been. The wheel turned once more, then she flew out low over the waves.