Shorelines dart in and out, meandering through inlets, long and narrow along the eastern seaboard. Forgotten times of ancient mariners whose tales could be heard far and wide in days gone bye. The salt air mist drifts through like perfumed seas and sea breezes anoint our brows as glances seaward bring tales of old.
How often do we think of those that have carved their lives from these rugged ways? Fisherman’s wives perched upon widow’s watch awaiting the return of the cape islanders as they appear in the bay after the day’s catch. Their hulls, a reflected light that shines through window bright, coming home or not…I’ll wait and wait and wait.
This place drenched in heritage with a nautical history as its playground. I have returned to respect her depths, to learn her ways, to fall in love again; till sand do us part.