2016 String Poet Prize Third Place
Longing
Of course it will be what is not:
the cacophony of lady slippers near the shore,
roses stretching toward eaves. You will want
scallops in the sand, the great horseshoe crab hollowed out,
and thousands, maybe millions of tiny crabs
in matted sea grass from something that happened
before your arrival. Will you go back
or was that the only time, and if you go
how much will be the same? Still
if you were to find your way
to that hollow of sand dune, surrounded
in wild blueberries you would dare to pick
and taste though you didn’t really know
what they were, if you were to find your way
to that trackless place and wander
once more alone and without direction,
maybe low clouds would come to you
again and cast their shadows,
and you could watch the mild darkness
move over and beyond the bright land in waves.
And all this before you even began to wonder
how to find your way back.