Salty solitude, warm croissants, tidal whorls: Read the poems that bring Cape Cod to life
For the first time since Cape Cod Poetry started more than two years ago, three of the winning poems are untitled. It does not lessen their impact, but it does change the anticipation ― the beginning point of the poem.
Once again, Cape Cod's breathtaking nature plays a central role in this month's offerings.
Do you write poetry? See the rules below to submit one of your poems.
***
Rosemary Dunn Moeller has had poems published in Scurfpea Anthologies, Freshwater, The Alembic, and CapeCodOnline. She lives in Hyannis for the winter and on their farm on the Dakota prairie in the summer. She and her husband love winter hiking in Harwich and all over the Cape.
This poem was about one of our last hikes in Harwich before leaving for the farm in South Dakota. We love Cape Cod winters, the naked trees and evergreens. The ocean is as rippling and flat as the prairie, with sunsets and sunrises dramatic in both places.
Sunday Before Spring Equinox in Harwich
By Rosemary Dunn Moeller
Above Herring River Salt Marsh
among red maples and Atlantic cedars
we paused, concerned.
Our trail fell down the slope, eroded,
leaving a tree root bridge,
our choice of path.
Instead of retreating, carefully
we stepped along rounded
exposed roots from tree to tree
looking far down to the sinister salt marsh
and almost as far down on the right to wet bog.
Our path, a twisted braid holding soil tightly,
some moss and twigs superficially.
Roots work hard to do well,
gathering moisture and minerals,
supporting our wandering weight
as we crossed the narrow ridge.
We continued around the bog stripped
free of leaves in winter,
stepping quickly through snow
and ice to keep shoes dry.
We could see far down and outward,
from the hill slope held by red maples
soon to come back to leaf and life.
***
Jon Hare lives in Falmouth and enjoys reading and writing haiku, senryu and tanka.
I was inspired to write this poem on Christmas Eve, while waiting in the cold to pick up baked goods from Maison Villatte in Falmouth. The topic is the interplay between cold and warm and the thankfulness for warm food on a cold day. Also, there is the happy thought of warm croissants. This poem is a senryu, which looks like haiku but highlights human nature.
an untitled haiku
By Jon Hare
waiting outside
on a frigid morning
warm croissants
***
Christine Jones lives in Orleans and is the author of "Girl Without a Shirt" (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and "Now Calls Me Daughter" (Nixes Mate Books, 2022).
This poem is part of a larger collection of poems inspired by my swims in the bay waters. My husband and I swim all year round and I’m continuously trying to find words to express the ever-shifting serenity and wonderment of its landscape. This poem is specific to Pleasant Bay, addressed to the cormorant that keeps watch from what we call “Cormorant’s Rock.”
To the Cormorant
By Christine Jones
They call you Sea Raven,
Sentinel of the Bay,
Seer of the Ocean. Tell me,
do you lose yourself when diving deep
to forage for fish we cannot see.
There’s much we do not.
Not the gull as it drops the quahog, headed for
the barren rock, or the quahog when it splits,
a locket revealed. Not the oystercatcher,
how it seeks its own treasure, billing the sand
beneath the bridge. I imagine you don’t lose sight
of the evening’s kindling, or morning’s heat rising
winter’s steam. As we might the blue heron’s
extended neck in the distance, the infinite holes.
The tidal whorls. Today, as we slosh
in waders, rubber-warm, scavenging
for our day’s fortune, we almost miss
the startle of scallops hidden in the silt’s
small swellings, the fill of our bucket.
***
Steve Waller lives on Long Pond in Centerville and is a member of the Haiku Club at Barnstable Adult Center.
My friends at the Haiku Club of Barnstable Adult Center inspired me to write these poems. Together we learned the technique of using verbal imagery, brevity and a sharp “keriji” conclusion to express the joys of nature we observe. The weather, waterfowl, and waves of Long Pond in Centerville create startling contrasts that pop up and become poems. I commend that exercise to you.
deep winter haiku
By Steve Waller
smooth sheet of glaze ice
too thin to traverse today
sleepy fish beneath
brilliant blue sky, bitter cold
fiercely pierces my mittens
good night to sleep indoors
crunchy hard white snow
shines bright in the cold sun
melted and gone soon
birds clustered around
feeder attracts a big crowd
seeds dropped on the ground
another dreary day
overcast cold slippery
spring is welcome now
***
Carol Amato has written several children’ books about endangered and threatened animals and others.
For nearly 25 years I’ve been walking the bay beaches of the Cape with wonder and delight. Mostly. Early on, I was fascinated by the odd-looking creatures that looked like motorcycle helmets proliferating some of the bay beaches. That is, until they were no longer prolific. Years passed, and the diminishing numbers of these ancient mariners increased, until at present, their sustainability is in question.
Tale of the Ancient Mariner
By Carol Amato
Spring night on Cape Cod
the moon full of itself
glares across the bay beach
and the incoming tide.
Hundreds of male horseshoe crabs
patrol the shore, waiting, in this ritual
of over four hundred million years.
Out of the murky depths the females
arrive on the frothy tips of the waves.
The males attach to the females’ backs
and together they drag themselves high
on the beach where she deposits thousands
of tiny green eggs fertilized by the males.
The returning highest tides will carry away
the hatchlings but to an uncertain future.
As the years pass, their numbers diminish.
Each spring I walk the bay beaches hoping
to find evidence of their tracks like tires
in the sand, or females buried there. I search
for males waiting along the edge of the sea
under the ancient and all-seeing moon.
Resilient survivors as the dinosaurs were not
why then, have they been disappearing?
It’s the familiar story of the clear-cut forests,
pervasive development in wildlife habitats
and all the other egregious deeds and greed
and narcissistic needs of humankind.
After years of being harvested for bait,
bled for the lysate that does indeed save lives,
but imperiled, they are losing their own.
The necessary changes, will we heed them?
Poem not titled
By Tom Craw
I’m far away where I want to be
But deep inside I miss the sea
And a body of water that surrounds
The land made of compass grass
And fine white sand
It’s not that big it’s a fragile place
Footprints in the sand
Gone without a trace
High winds and rough seas
Will make it erode
But what does it matter
The land is still sold
A house will go up
But that I don’t mind
Because here on the Cape
Good neighbors you’ll find.
***
Patricia Ann Chaffee is an award-winning freelance writer and poet. She resides in Connecticut and considers Cape Cod her second home.
Inspiration: The Cape calls to me throughout the year and I’m fortunate to be able to respond, making regular trips in the winter, spring, and fall. My early morning practice when I’m there inspired the poem "Salty Solitude." It is a real-life account of how I greet the day, my appreciation of the sensory beauty of Cape Cod, and the simple celebration of moments of solitude.
Salty Solitude
By Patricia Chaffee
Waking in my tiny cottage
A glimpse of sun whispers my name
Squinting behind a morning fog
As it journeys on its way
Pulling on my jeans
My “vintage” KIA ready to roll
To the water’s edge
On Bass River, as it flows
But first I get a bagel
With cream cheese and coffee too
Then head over to Windmill Beach
My place of solitude
I don’t always have such quiet
The winter chill more often brings
Only an occasional passer-by
Perhaps a dog on a leash
I savor the salty goodness
Of the seaside winter air
Unwrapping my luscious bagel
Could it get any better than here?
Waking in the morning
To my Cape Cod sunrise bliss
My solitude is a precious thing
I hope I never have to miss
How to submit a poem to the Cape Cod Times
Here’s how to send us your work:
Submit one poem single-spaced, of 35 lines or fewer per month
Poems cannot be previously published (in print or online).
Deadline for submission is March 1, 2023.
Submit by email to cctpoetry12@gmail.com.
Poems should be free of hate speech and expletives (profanity, vulgarity, obscenity).
In the body of the e-mail, send your contact information: name, address, phone number and title of poem; then, in a Word Doc attachment, include poem without name or any other personal info, so that the poem can be judged anonymously.
Poets not previously published in the Cape Cod Times are welcome to submit a new poem each month; those poets previously published in the Times, three months after publication.
Poets will be notified only if their poem is accepted.
Poems will be selected by a panel of readers on the Cape and Islands who are published poets and editors.
This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Amateur poets share their views of Cape Cod in a contest open to all
