Arthur's Beach
Steve Ewing

Sand
Clean white sand
warm in summer
rolling wet
hot bodies
fresh from swimming
in the Sound
Frozen white
salted  crunch
underfoot in winter
wind blasting
eye stinging
unforgiving bits of it
Sand obsessed Arthur
the wave caressed
pitch of dune
shaped by fetch
and depth
Rooted in beachgrass tendrils
entrapped in the
timber groins we built
along this stretch of beach
formed the fine and
delicate line
that kept

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Mayflowers
Steve Ewing

It is a good year for Mayflowers They are sprawling on the hill leading to the chicken coop and the shop

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Jeff
Steve Ewing

He grips the podium like the wooden wheel of a loaded cargo schooner comfortable yet firm as he steers us through another night

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Coo
Steve Ewing
I remember Coo from boyhood summers with his large extended Italian family renting down the street from us
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Angel
Steve Ewing
I see Gerry now, blue hooded sweatshirt, ball cap, blue pants. Rockafella, he calls me (and everybody else).
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Workin' Cats
Steve Ewing
Shallow draft, a whisker between her keel and sandy flat, Softly she slides over a thousand, steamer holes, Eel grass tickles the sweet, clear grain, shaped to steer and keep this cat on course.
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Still Shucking From Yonder Shores
Steve Ewing
Jimmy always reminded me of Peter O’Toole charging through the desert on a camel Long lion mane flowing.
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Captain Levi Jackson
Steve Ewing

Before the daylight/hints its slow return/on death bed winter nights as/brutal gusts spit flakes/upon the sheets/

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If We're Spared
Steve Ewing
Be good to/gab again/down on the pier/You could ride old Fergi/through the slurry mist/that spreads like/cotton sheets
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Not That Long Ago
Steve Ewing

Not that long ago We walked up On that stage June light shafting Down through the Tabernacle’s multi colored Stained glass rows

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