The Social Scene
Nothing is changes for me.
From my porch I see
Lobster boats, the raft,
The big green transfer boat.
Rarely does a car come down
The short dirt road of the cove.
But when I go to get the paper,
Chat with the owner
Of the old island market
And read my paper on the deck
Of the newly spruced-up boatyard,
Having coffee and muffins
With the well-dressed boaters,
The new money of the island
It appears that change has come
Like it or not
How fit it is for you to be part of the cove
all of us sharing as we let your ashes
slip through our fingers into the sea.
All the natural world is yours nowó
That magic moment when the dying sun
Flares on the hulls and sails
Of the lobster boats moored around us