Holly Trahan

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Chapin Beach Blessing
                            ~for Emile

Blessings on my big fisherman
who currently walks the flats of Chapin Beach.
The fog dances teasingly before
an intrepid sun intent on piercing it.
Early morning turns water into sand,
curved carved traces of a night of waves.

A stroller on that quiet beach will soon see
way out in shallow water, a man thumb-nail sized,
gleam and flicker of his line curved like an eyelash
above what must be his head.
Perhaps that observer, a city girl,
will wonder who could be so far out.

May silver backs swim lovingly around him
knowing and believing this gentle man
will make them want to fight for life
before he slips their shivering selves
with cheerful benediction back to sea.

For now he walks with certainty of years,
knowing and believing
that one dependable thing in life:
the tide.
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​Holly Trahan's Profile

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Massachusetts Spring

you might remember mornings
when you lay light and painless,

heard gentle breath beside you,
rustling child two rooms away.

when you saw through mist
swamp maple's red stirrings,

when you whiffed joy
from fresh-turned field.

through window's hopeful open crack
the world was whispering

nothing will ever change.
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            ♢

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