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Soap Box Poets

Memories of Saltwater Things
© by Daniel Eaton

Hulks of old wrecks from days of past.
A lonely white seagull atop a high mast
Rusty old anchors from ships long gone.

A boat horn's blast through the fog at dawn
The waterfront crowds that daily parade,
To view the catches the anglers have made
Fishnets hung to dry on racks,
Leaking boats needing caulk in the cracks.

Porpoises diving and playing in fun,
Dancing waters sparkling in the sun.
A swirling waterspout causing awe and wonder,
As it whirls about amidst lightning and thunder.

From passing ships, the waves in their wake,
That roll to the shore and there to break.
Fish boats returning, the flags on their masts,
Telling the watchers the results of their casts.

Sand fiddlers waving their claws for the fray,
Birds flying home at the close of day.
Skipping the shells across the brine,
And flinging afar a fishing line.

Watching the crabs as they scurry away,
Seeing the moon rise over the bay
Sighting wild marsh ponies across the Sound,
That swam, long ago, from the wreck aground.
Nighttime sounds of happy children screaming,
While chasing sand crabs with flashlights beaming.

Sitting around a campfire hearing shipwreck tales,
Children riding a dune buggy over sandy trails.
Wild sea oats in the wind that bend and sway,
And seem to say "Please come back again someday".

Submitted by Lillie Jean

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