The Cove                                                                                                 

8-30-1999

Before me the cove, shimmering light

on shallows, the dun mud of low tide.

Gulls feeding, stark silhouettes against diamonds of

morning sun, breeze shifting sprays of movement

over azure water, rifts of waves nudging

rocks and tangled kelp

along the shore.

Out a couple of miles a trawler churns north

Through the rolling surf of Penobscot Bay,

and beyond, Isleboro and North Haven Island,

gloomy blue shadows, and beyond, stretching to the horizon,

the open seas of the Gulf of Maine,

the open seas of the Atlantic.

I am still so connected to you, Helen, after so many years.

I am just a few years younger, now, than you were when you died.

I was a boy then, but now as a man I still feel you here,

your love of the ocean, this cove is yours, this briny air.

Your patience runs through me, your calm embraces me

And strengthens when I need it most.

I have children now. You never met them, yet I see you

in them, through me; your legacy passed, and passed again.

The sun, higher now, begins to warm,

and the incoming tide rises over the mud,

stretches to wash the slight strip of sand at the edge of the cove.

A sailboat glides across the mouth of the inlet,

bending against the wind, cutting the sea

with silent grace and speed.

“The Cove” was published in the author’s book, The Cove, published 2020, and available on Amazon.