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)