By RAHN ADAMS
The old man lets out his net / one float at a time / across the wide, meandering channel / making an S in the tidal grass.
In these calm estuarine waters / on the mainland side / of this despoiled barrier island, / a full-moon tide is on the rise.
But the milky tide does turn, / and the man reappears / to retrieve his gravid gill net / brimming with salty backwater bacon.
The ebb tide carries him away, / pulling him toward the inlet, / where he must leave the marsh / to cruise upriver toward home.
These are his healing waters, / but they are only half his life, / as tempests and red tides / do pock the rest of his time with strife.
Oh wow! Y’all have had an amazing and interesting life and are continuing to do so.
Love, love, love the art work and your writing.
Thank you, Brownie. And we love you, too.