This poem describes how I feel as summer wanes and August comes to a close. I don't want it to end.
The place is Ocean Point in East Boothbay, Maine, another place in New England that I dearly love.
The poem first appeared in the online literary journal, The Traveling Bohemian, and is included in my poetry collection, The Brook in the Woods Behind Our Old House.
Ocean Point
These rocks in the late-day sun,
mica-marbled, ancient, and smooth
That rich seaweed smell after
yesterday's storm
Those children poking
at treasures in the tide pool
That lone sailboat
heading home
This moment,
when the tide turns
and the wind grows chill
I should be on my way
but still
I stay.
