“Old jeans, sneakers, grey sweater, scarf,
duffel bag…”

Wind-swaying trees, rain down-pouring,
Surf upon Maine island rocks, these things
I had forgotten, yet they were ingrained
Upon my heart. This blustery morn, I’m
Ferry passenger from Stonington to Isle
Au Haut, life-changing passage to spend
Summer and fall working with lobster-
Fishing woman. Don’t dress like a tourist,”
She advised, I feel dozen peering eyes,
Voiced whispers in hard-bench waiting
Room, “Is that her?” How do they know
My self-conscious feelings, starting new
Job as lobster boat sternman?

Old jeans, sneakers, grey sweater, scarf,
Duffel bag, I’m moving in for the summer.
Few piercings, tattoos tell all, not typical
Weekend LLB hiker. Yet, as ferry engines
Rev, I feel new journey unfolding, new life-
Chapter writing, Maine woman with one-
Way ticket to distant Isle. Then, I recall
Rain pouring on metal roof, wanting to
Sleep in, early morning hours, alarm
Clock blaring, smell coffee perking,
Slurping down cereal, wood smoke low-
Lingering in predawn morning air.

“Spray speckled on ferry windshield…”

Blustery passage, we pick our way through
Maze of lobster buoys, channel in and out
Of Stonington, hitting white-capped waves,
Spray speckled on ferry windshield, my mind
Focused on new job, dropping trawl of lobster
Traps, keeping lines untangled, hands and
Feet clear, repairing, re-baiting traps, spending
Nights together, beer and Tylenol. Yes, there
Is more to this poem as the ferry churns past
Maine islands, mere buttons on nautical charts.
Elin asked me, and I said, “Yes!” To work for
And with her. We’ll see how summer goes.

Poem inspired by blustery day on the water, scudding clouds
and rolling whitec
aps by day, wind blowing in tall pines all night.
Aside from beer and Tylenol, this poem is fictional. 

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