In the woods at the back of the house,
The young girls stand amidst the oaks,
Their eyes raised to the leafy canopy above them.
They do not move, nor do they speak.
They hear only the tap, tap, tap sound up and to their left.
They search for the drummer’s location.
By the door at the back of the house,
The grandfather watches the girls in the woods.
He hears a woodpecker at work.
He does not move, nor does he speak.
He chases an ethereal notion
That the girls, and the oaks, and the woodpecker are one.
To old shop
Four times closed
With two locks
on three clocks
In the spring, at the west end of Third Street
Before the outgoing tide slackens
And the sun reaches sky back behind you
You may see one or few aging fishermen
Scurry like sand crabs
Round the rocks
And under the docks
At water’s edge along the slim beach.
Some will zigzag north toward Fifth
And others south toward the marshland
Each according to starting point or inclination
And each directed by a guarded mental map
Drawn from distinct experiences
Including such notations as
When to pause
And where to cast
And how many times
Into the shallow waters before dashing on.
They hunt, of course, the flounder that
Lie in wait for prey of their own.
Behind Nix Boatyard and up Oyster Creek, across from the southeast corner of Creekside Restaurant’s dirt parking lot, past the wood pile, through the trees, and over the damaged docks lining the creek on this bank, clean over to the landing on the creek’s far side, you will see, should you choose to look in that direction upon exiting your vehicle, the two-masted schooner, Resilience out of Rhode Island. Under repair by its owners after being battered in October’s hurricane, Resilience will not set a northward course home for at least one more month. However, you might predict – and more than one seaman has already agreed – that, once she is under full sail, she promises to be one of the most beautiful sights afloat. Furthermore, you may, however briefly, be filled with calming courage and a spirit of adventure, and square your shoulders with casual confidence and determination as you stride toward your appointment for dinner.
The old man saw first that the nearest boat was for sale, even through the confines of his camera’s viewfinder, even through the fog, even through the sunless grey of early dawn. And, though he was of insufficient funds, and of strength (and of remaining time), he struggled to make out the contact number.
Seduced by the promise of a rising sun in the east,
The brief pastel, mist-clothed morning eluded her.
Mathew and his sister, Sea
Sailed up the coast to visit me.