Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2015 04 22 Poetry: Narrows of the Bay April 22, 2015

April 22 and how do you do.

I love the ocean. I always have, and I always will. I was born in a coastal town, way down on the most eastern point of Maine. In fact, the town of Lubec is the most eastern town in the United States. No, it isn’t Eastport, it’s Lubec, and the folks of this historic town wear their pride as no other.

The ocean has a way of becoming part of you. The smells, the noises, the high and low tides all seem to take hold of you and never surrender. It is magnificence unrehearsed, and unlike anything else under the sun, there’s a sense of simplicity that can never be duplicated.

I feel the salty spray whenever I write about the sea. I hear the gulls cry, I hear the horn of the lighthouse in the bay, I crave for every part of it and even as I sit here, miles away from its pounding shores and think about it, I recall the wonders of it that captivated a small child as he walked along the shore.

This poem is about the sea and how ordinary life of those living there can differ so much from any other. It is the sea, and it is one of the loves of my life.

Thanks for stopping by and have a remarkable day.

dp

***

Narrow’s of the Bay

Summer time raises its head over the salt water flats
Buoy bells ring out across the early August morn
A lone seagull cries out from atop the canning factory roof
The day’s first tide marches in through the narrows of the bay

A newspaper delivery boy pedals down through a vacant alley
One lonely car makes its way down to the docks
A church steeple stands tall, searching for the sun
Scattered clouds skip high across morning’s first light

Marquee lights flicker, then burn bright at the local corner diner
A man sitting on his lunch pail pulls on his fisherman’s boots
Salty air slowly drifts up through the center of town
One by one, the boat engines come alive

Conversations of current events circle the salted planks
Two dogs scamper and run along the downtown shore
A bread truck comes to a stop behind the local grocery
A fog horn sings out from the watchful harbor light

Two barking seals slide off of the breakwaters edge
A young man on the deck of a boat repairs a lobster trap
A store front awning opens wide and proudly waves hello
A little girl and her mother give daddy a good bye kiss

One by one, the boats leave their wake as they head out to work,
A squadron of seagulls escorts the plowing hulls out to sea
A growing quiet settles in upon the emptying docks
One more summer’s day wraps itself around the small coastal town

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