ODE TO THE EASTERN SHORE
You wear yourself without pretence,
You wear yourself without pretence,
lie flat without worry for a hill,
cloak yourself in cornfields, an everyday shade of green
burn your grass to a late summer tan,
stand unshuttered in two-story white,
walk your telephone poles down to meet the horizon
dot your roads with produce stands,
graze unworried deer at the edge of fields, and slowly
you carry away the names of your ancestors, Nanticoke
you wear boring like a regal mark of beauty.
THE RIVER
Quiet collected
the overhanging canopy,
green that mirrored up on down,
the great northern cypress,
knees held high and pink and dry,
the swamp azalea
that gave itself freely to the fragrance of air.
Quiet gathered in
the skipper that tip-toed
needle-black across the water,
the Prothonotary’s warble,
a golden, sweeted song for the verdant woods.
Quiet embraced
the slow, winding turns --
whispered
Pocomoke.
QUESTIONS THAT CAME IN NOVEMBER
Dad, I wish you were back again
to ask all those little questions
I never got around to asking.
Like today, driving Route 50,
crossing the Choptank, recalling
how you once fished that river.
I think we were in the kitchen
when you brought the fish in, dropped
their cold slabs into the sink.
I wish you were here again, even
with your back turned to me at the sink
scraping scales, cleaning the catch.
I wouldn’t ask what it’s like
on the other side or even for answers
to this riddled life I’ve yet to sort out.
I’d just want to ask, How was it that
cold, November day? What did you catch?
Was the captain stern, his word law?
How did you keep your hands warm
handling wet fish? How was it decided
to end this frigid day of fishing?
Dad, I’d want all the details,
leaving nothing out, all you can remember,
to help me remember.
OFFSHORE KAYAKING
I wanted to tell you how it was that day
how they arrived
shedding the sea from their backs,
rhythmically rising and falling,
offering their shiny, black moon eyes to me
how they rose from the green hold of the sea
barely a fathom or two away,
released held breath,
then slipped sinuously away
then rose again by my side,
or slid under keel, or followed along
with slight twist of tail, and
how it was so magically mysterious.
Like I said, I wanted to tell you
how it was that day and
how it is we sometimes get a glimpse
of delight
ours and maybe another’s.
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