DECEMBER STORM

The ocean rages
and lengthens on the shore
as a friend and his daughter
jutted out near the Cape's shore
from an old fishing boat
by the shoals of blue fish
swimming as sunny shadows
in the uneasy waves of waters
sense a pale gathering dusk
as the sailor drags his salmon
along the wet tall grass
soon to be cleaned
for me by my wood stove
the sky now full of rain
finding the trace of a poem
found on a napkin
written from a French cafe
in my grey overcoat
under the driving cold wind
by the ferryman, poet
and daughter Julie
careful of fallen wires
sheltered from the storm
eyeing torn branches
of a dead Oak tree
desiring to be warm
under logs of fire
suddenly hearing
what sounded like bees
in the lightening of a city
with great thunder
in this burly wonder
of our own mortality.