Sunday, April 3, 2011

Walking by the Bay

I should like to dwell where the deep blue sea
Rock'd to and fro as tranquilly,
As if it were willing the halcyon's nest
Should shelter through summer its beautiful guest.
When a plaining murmur like that of a song,
And a silvery line come the waves along:
Now bathing - now leaving the gentle shore,
Where shining sea-shells lay scattered o'er.

Poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon, 1802, 1838.

This is the beginning of a romantic poem by a woman who lived a short life. I never heard of her until I asked Google for poems about the seashore. I wrote one myself last night but it's raw and unworked. Kass left a comment here a couple days ago suggesting writing a poem a day during April, National Poetry Month. Two written, 29 to go. The last time I wrote a poem a day for a month I found in retrospect that only one was worth sharing. But that's not such bad odds, so I'll try it again.

Rachel and I are on a search for places we have not walked before -- when the weekend gives us a pretty afternoon and our schedules allow a couple of hours. Sandy Neck beach was not a new place but we had not walked up on and behind the dunes [strongly discouraged during the summer anyway for conservation reasons] into the scrubby, thorny wilderness behind them. A new landscape for me, a contained "wilderness" with hints of paths, some probably made by animals. The leafless shrubs and vines and roses had an open feeling they will not have six weeks from now. We were never far from the parking lot, the ocean, the entrance road but we could only see the sandy humps and dips and the tangles around our legs. A different kind of walk that I enjoyed very much, especially with an almost warm breeze and a beautiful sunny sky made friendly with whipped cream clouds -- after a week with several gray days, rain and even snow showers. Coming back, at last, to the rolling surf, the spotty sunshine made patches of water green amid other patches of many blues.


nacodoches said...

A poem a day. Years ago I wrote poetry and I saved a few of those poems. They are awful. I am sure yours will be much better. Poets are geniouses in my book. Dianne

Jonas said...

Not for me the tranquil sea. Acadia National Park is one of my favorites, where cold Atlantic, Sisyphean waves throw themselves hell-bent against granite.

But, hey, that's just me.