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That Evening

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


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