leisurely on my way while officially sponsored
onward to stranger lands walking across a small-stoned coast,
I came upon a boat whose bow was barely on land and whose
hull to the stern lay in the water, one could say: "up to her ankles".
a heavy-looking smack, all 9 feet of her, a workaholic, exhausted
through her history, a true toiler of the sea.
the coast was unspoiled by man’s empty-headed beautification
and as for the water, it was an estuary to a larger body of water, sitting
at the southern end of a small village nestled to the hillside, dotting
structures like random jewels, dreamy from a distance, but poor enough
to be defined as something else up close.
walking the waterline, the overpowering scent of fish, living and dead,
of quahogs, of moss, surround me and if rope had a distinctive scent
it would be here, and if the interior of your home smelled this way
you’d rush downtown to purchase "Febreze: Linen Fresh Odor Eliminator"
the clear choice among the many products available, and by this time
you'd have certainly opened the windows to air the house, flies or no flies.
but at the water’s edge, the atmosphere seems appropriate.
the estuary's calling is the Wampanoag name meaning: “I am here”.
("Febreze" is available locally and is distributed by
the "Procter & Gamble" Company)