Poem: A Nod to Frost


A Nod to Frost

by Shannon P. Laws


The woods are lovely dark and deep
There are hidden treasure chests to keep

A stranger blocks my trail so narrow
the shadow falls once pierced by sparrow

Feeding on gnats in the twilight spaces
I see my face on the faces

Along the ways of search and find
great friends there are of every kind





Walking along the pier, right at the elbow that bends up towards Fairhaven, I notice a shy heron walking deliberately among the pilings.  It’s twin legs and long neck hide the bird as it rests near the jagged grey-brown grain of whole trees, de-barked and weathered.  Only when the heron gracefully kissed the water for fish, did I notice it.

Not many others on the pier at 7 in the morning, on a Sunday, in July.  I’m thankful for the feeling that I own the place.  The tide is low, and mossy rocks air out their backs.  One set of rock reminds me of a dragon, resting it’s head in the water, another group looks like an ancient pillar that fell at conquest centuries ago, the segments now broken, as a dotted line.

Eelgrass catches my attention.  Bent over in the heavy current, sways gently, little wind to push them both.  It looks so soft I want to dive into it.  My mother trained us to NOT swim in grassy water; tree branches lurked under there and will snag your clothes to death.  This morning, I want to swim in the dangerous grassy water.  Will the tips and smooth edges of the blades tickle me?  My laughter would echo with the morning birds.

I want to do it.

eelgrass 2
Northwest Eelgrass