Remembering other summers ~
I wrote this poem in July 2007 in Maine.
Here's to a return, someday, to such glorious summers.
Christmas
Cove
From high on a massive thrust of stone,
I hear the tugging waters of John’s Bay,
See in flashes of overdue sun the rising filigree of spray
Break on the far side of Hay Island.
The incoming tide surges and gurgles at bedrock –
Granite, pegmatite, feldspar, quartz.
This has been mine for a week:
The osprey tending her nest on a white chunk of rock;
The gull perched on the chimney top next door;
The bearded blue heron posing on our ledge;
The goldfinches nesting in our birch;
Pink blossomed sedum patching over slate;
Lobstermen circling their pots,
Sturdy boats chugging and churning the waters,
The polka-dot pattern of buoys on the bay;
Living rich with binoculars, sketch book, bird guide,
And books to ponder on foggy days.
Tomorrow, in sorrow, I’ll leave this behind,
And in joy, carry it away.
Kate
Lydon Varley
