Sometimes I jog
the Maine shoreline—
the ragged edge
of ocean where
the call of screeching
gulls echoes over
granite outcroppings
as whitecaps dissipate
into spindrift. Here
I listen to the gentle
lapping of incoming
waves creeping up
the beach, watch
sandpipers scurry
from the cold Atlantic.
It’s these moments
when I feel your presence,
recall the early October
evening when we studied
the crescent moon.
National Federation of Poetry Societies – Maine Poets Society Award 2016