-- after Winslow Homer

from Fragments of Light

Salt spray spatters
my face, and I scramble
farther up the rocks,
away from the changing tide.
Gray clouds tumble into the churning
water – black then tossing white.
Margaret holds to the water,
follows it back and forth
back and forth –
a little closer each time,
skirt hem damp
bare legs crusted with salt
yellow hair escapes
from tugging scarf.

I holler over wind and surf
but she doesn’t hear. Once,
she glanced up and I motioned
her in. She turned from me
from the shore,
opened her arms
embraced the sea.

Smerwick Harbor, Dingle, Co Kerry, Ireland. March twilight.