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Georgetown, Maine
Summer '67
(for Nancy and Paul Perez)
We ate lots of shellfish that summer:
Mussels from under the rockweed,
Moules mariniere, good with white wine;
Sea urchins from the dark corners
Of a tidal pool, split open,
Lemon sprinkled on their orange insides.
In knee-deep water we felt with our feet
For giant sea clams, good
Ground up for chowder,
Less mediterranean.
When the fog lifted, we looked
Through the surplus glasses
For a black-bellied plover,
Ruddy turnstone or killdeerv
Among the gulls and terns
Out on the mudflats.
While we watched,
The silver trainers
Flew over from Brunswick
And dropped their bombs
Just beyond One-Tree Island.
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