Composition
I feel the great dog approaching,
playing his rhythm on the usual sway
of the deck, a counterpart celebrating
the sky and water that holds us.
Beau, tongue lolling in tune
with temperature’s wand, has come
to lounge after his morning swim.
Settling next to me, he shakes
Damariscotta water on me, wedding
us to the rocks that enriched it
when this place was taking on form
that men would map and build upon
when the glaciers went their way.
Copyright © Bill Keen | Year Posted 2023
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