The moon a bright scimitar last night
o’er the Halloween creatures and town lights.
Dinghies and dredges await the dawn,
braided lines hold bows gently on moorings
lettered with draggers’ names,
culling boards all painted industrial grey,
and nets draped below like tatted lace,
clean still of eelgrass and eels and fish we can’t name.
Rubber boots and mitts ready to shuck
at morning light. Let the frigid sea splash and leak
down our shins and to our feet
splayed against the pitch and yaw
of the swell and salty chop-
rich harvest before us, fair wind at our backs.
Clark Myers is an active member of the poetry community on Martha’s Vineyard. He lives in Vineyard Haven.