AT FORT SEWALL

Every summer
escaping from Boston
to Fort Sewall
in the Marblehead sun
watching the yacht races
every August
with my Uncle Linwood
and Aunt Sarah
as we played the double
violin Bach concerto
and later with jazz
on my sliding sax
as I kept out of trouble
sparing me
from the usual menace
of sports casualties
on the tennis courts
yet not ever wishing
to go to bed
but to have adventure
with ease to relax
on the docks at high tide
near the ocean wall
as others were fishing
or playing checkers
chess or backgammon
on the park bench
by the harbor at early dawn
while I was scuba diving
and later exploring the history
upon this mile of hiking area
sighting a wide cannon
by the garden rocks
on our lawn
which saved our country
from a British takeover
in the war of 1812
viewing the lighthouse
at a noon picnic
giving to me a love of the sea
while eating
our spinach croissants
reading my French literature
and especially Baudelaire
feeding the sparrows
on the narrow bench
then playing beach ball
in the cool air
over Chandler Hovey Park
then at a night of darkness
thinking of Old Ironsides
and the U.S. Constitution
with all their distress calls
how we chased away
two small English frigates,
now my family was annually
checking me
by the canopy of moorings
near a huge Evergreen tree
as I grow taller
enfolding within
a poet's memory.