Boothbay Harbor, Maine
July 12, 2013
If you hold a quiet pose
ankle deep in shallow water
soles set to fine sand
rooted into rising tide
that carved the coves
and coast of Maine,
perhaps you’ll feel a touch of grace
washed in warm midsummer
sun and bathed in midday
joy-song of brother thrush.
If you hold as tiny crablettes
scuttle-crawl across your feet
and minnows clean your wrinkled toes,
perhaps you’ll catch the seaweed sway
to sister moon and lapping wave.
And if you chance to hold your ground
with thighs immersed beneath the tide,
perhaps your pulse will realign,
your breath reset to offshore breeze,
your mind at peace with mother sea.
Perhaps you’ll find your soul
submerged within the one eternal
moment, calm as the evening
osprey, who holds a quiet pose
on a pole with a view
to watch the daylight
slowly fade, his world
dissolve in shades of gray
and unobserved, to fly away
as silence fills the fog-bound night.
|Boothbay Harbor, Maine|