August 20 is the deadline to sign up for the online open mic August 23.
The Pilgrims survived!
For this they praised the Lord
And thanked their Indian friends
Who taught them how to live
In this different land.
Like them we pause,
From daily toil and furrowed brow relieved,
To feast and laugh and play and rest,
And tell ourselves how much we’re blessed
In this hopeful land.
Could they have known,
Long years ago, where Moses’ trek would lead:
Stiletto heels and MTV,
Hurricane Forecast
We felt the wonder
of the moment. . .
standing silent, awaiting
the outcome of an event unfolding
untouched by human hands. . .
wind and sea spoke with voices far away
but touching us nonetheless.
fear and hope we held in visions of
our own device. . .
— C. Glenn Sprague
Farewell Sunday on Martha’s Vineyard
Martha’s Vineyard rested quietly in the golden haze of her warmth,
Her sandy thighs cooling in the wide blue-white wash of the sea.
The passions of the night had wearied her,
But her rest was peaceful and she glowed,
Like burnished gold in the late morning, easy warming,
Sun of this so fine a Sunday.
A grey dorsal cut the crest of a Katama bound roller,
Requiem for Little Guy
Love’s embrace
Held thee
A short while — almost weightless.
Fly away
Little Soul
On butterfly wings.
Frail veil
Of human life
Slipped through love’s fingers — voiceless.
Fly high
Little Guy
On angel’s wings — all breathless.
Rather, it is in the shorter history of America,
not England, not Italy, that we find ourselves
in the perfect middle of a rainy, summer afternoon
inside a 1930s shingled boathouse long since
beached on a low hill out of water’s reach,
and plumbed and electrified for habitation.
No effort has been made to hide its origins.
Old masts and spars wait in the overhead rafters.
Blocks and tackle, coiled in figure eight knots,
The Quahaug Seeker By Adam Moore
Sengekontacket rippling gray
Waters had beckoned me to lay
My rusty basket rake upon
The sandy bottom of the pond.
I grasped, as did I deeper wade,
A rope with braided fibers frayed,
And with it tethered bushel wire,
Afloat in rubber tube from tire.
To quahaugs rake, to harvest reap,
