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It was like swimming in liquid in that small, quieted boat,
the four of us floating in the glass.We drank the vodka
and the view Sunday when the sun waned, still warming,
still giving depth to the salad of green edging that bowl
shape
at the end of eight miles down the stem, the skinny, salty
Squamscott.
We passed two ospreys up high with a single chick.
A great blue heron loped along at the motor's speed.
Compare this to Winnipesaukee, we said, and looked in vain
for others
who too were pulled out of their houses and onto the
shimmering water
where sparse clouds layered like a soft dessert in the
marbled western sky.
Continue on and the ocean merges with this oasis of melted
glass,
but we bobbed there in the bay sipping and talking and then
the tide
rolled with us, a grateful quartet stepping onto the Exeter
dock
just as dusk dimmed the day.
Pam Austin Bourgeois
July 21, 2009
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