Seal Harbour Days

Eternal fog still caresses these beloved shores
today, as in years past.
Scrub spruce, crowberry bushes, and ferns
now grow in profusion
where once houses stood defiant
against Atlantic gales.
Alders pay homage to fields
where fox pens made vain effort
to supplement
meagre income.

Through the mist a lone saddleback
laments the vanished bounty
his ancestors enjoyed: two pleasure boats
quietly rock
where dories, punts, and skiffs waited patiently
for the fishermen’s return,
or the freedom occasionally granted them
by small, seafaring boys.

At the two small cemeteries
the fog lingers quietly for a while,
like a brief visit between good friends
for whom words are not necessary
to define their kindred spirits.
The damp stillness attenuates a gentle echo
of remembered laughter,
of shared tragedies,
of birth and renewal,
of departures overshadowing
infrequent returns.

Wispy shapes can almost be seen,
in oilskins and Leckie boots,
and in patterned cotton house-dresses
that button up the front:
proud, brightly painted homes
seem to shimmer just beyond
the limit of vision,
and the smell of drying salt cod
and lobster bait mingle exotically
with that of home-baked bread,
molasses cookies, and johnny cake.

In the small village church
a diverse group of people
from near and far congregate
to share their common heritage:
skits, poetry, songs, and storytelling
express a strong sense of community,
a poignant feeling of something lost,
and a bittersweet remembrance
of departed family and friends.

One cannot help but feel that,
as the fog hangs outside the door,
yesterday still exists just beyond our sight,
remembered voices and smiles continue,
and small boats sail with the tide
to return with the sea’s harvest.
Children play in tidal pools,
returning to country kitchens
blessed by the benediction
of home cooking.
At the store down the road,
conversation rules eternal,
and the fog mixes with the smell
of Zig-Zag tobacco,
while comfortable nail kegs
host men who were giants in their time.

And down the gravel road, a small boy,
holding tight to his father’s hand,
walks, unknowingly,
towards a future
that will celebrate his past.