FIVE CAPE COD POEMS

(1) BEACH

The mainland
is but a smear
of flattened grey blue paint on
the horizon
as fishing boats
head north in search
of lobster pots
and in safe distance
of shipwrecking
hidden sandbars

Gentle waves climb and dance
upon a strand of charcoal like
and mossy boulders
the wind is making
an angrier sea today
than yesterday's mellow calm
when fishermen waited
for the tide's turn in hopes
of a decent catch of
striped bass or herring

Seven colors of pebbles surround
my feet on the beach today
which I can see was visited
much earlier by a morning stroller
I am in no place to meet those
icy and tempestuous waters
into which the seagulls dive so easily
in search of swimming prey
I would rather keep warm
in the sand and toss grains
and pebbles and bury
or mourn the red and black ladybug
lying next to a rusty orange pebble
who must have met an untimely
death last night on
this Cape Cod shore.
@May 1999


(2) STUBBORN AND ON VACATION

While I spent three days
working on a writing
I did not think twice
about the essay that was due
last month
Ahhh...
how wonderful this seascape feels
and how powerful its effects
on my mind and my body because
though I could have worked
on that essay
I do not feel an ounce of guilt
for waiting and putting off
a task
that is far less important
or urgent than
embracing my stubborm
spirit's voracious appetite
for these ocean sounds
and pebbled beaches
which I must leave
with longing and sadness
after today.

(3) SAND AND SKY AND MORE


I know you cannot hear it
but just imagine the melancholy
horn sounding in the distance
in tempo
and throughout the evening
until morning
Now see in your mind's eye
a faraway sailing ship
with a white hull and long
masts and other gear for
hauling in mass quantities
of lobster, fish, mussels and clams
and place that smooth sailing boat
on a Cape Cod blue of ocean
with a seagull
calling out in a mile high sky
of white clouds
and seat yourself
in this mindful photo
on white and tan grainy sands
and now open your arms
to the new day
awakened
to whatever comes forth
as a means to express
how happy you are here.

(4) CAPED HISTORY

Cross legged and sitting on
moist sands
like an Indian Chief
about to smoke the peace pipe
she looked out wistfully
at the lonely waters of the sea
and believed she heard the
ancient cries of the
three thousand or more
ships wrecked upon these
New England ocean doors
and she imagined
men
and women lost in the night
and praying final words
in Puritan faith
and wondered why
the difference in centuries
cannot change the rhythm
of the waves on a Sunday then
or now
when the sky is a happy blue
and terns and seagulls enjoy
a veritable feast of
hunting game
and she wondered if the pebbles
strewn about her near and far
might contain some of the very rocks
once tossed against these battered boats
by an angry goddess of the earth
waiting in suspense for the arrival
of these witless invaders of
native and indigenous lands.


(5) SALT MARSH

Low tide
blue and even
deeper blue
In the distance
a light house
and quiet
in the seagrasses as white sands
surface and the high morning sky
lengthens
like arms outstretched
appear the welcoming
yellow and tan sandbars
for curious feet
and webbed predators for the tiny
crabs, mussel and snails
Fox and heron, raccoons
sea rat and clams
old and new
grasses of brilliant springtime hues
mosses of a deeper sheen
and rocks painted
black in a drying greyish green
wetness upon which
gulls
and ducks
may land and observe
a new day
on the salt marsh.