My new job

This. This is what consumes me these days. Those black piles of enormous chain, the work that needs to be done to get this place ready. That rainbow, the promise of our successful endeavor. What a view! I am sidetracked on a regular basis in the middle of some inventory entry, or high up in a bosun's chair, hanging from a crane while I fiddle with a bit of rigging. I find fifteen or twenty minutes have gone by and I don't remember what I've been doing, or even if I've done anything. Entranced by the waters of the bay, the islands in the changing light.

We have two pairs of nesting ospreys, within keeking distance of each other, and the guys up in the yacht brokerage have their vintage captain's telescope trained on them. Terry called down the other day to announce "we have eggs! They're doing that thing!" "Brooding?" I ask, and get a "yeah!" We're going to be parents!

And all this right next to Portland, and the busy highway. Nature goes on, finds its home, the ospreys find their fish, enough to support two couples, the tide rises and falls, and the current runs through the old railroad bridge. 

One Night in Brooksville

Fireflies blanket the fields
Rising above me
Lights in the wet night
A shining tent

Phosphorescence in the trees
Like fairies
Or fish racing the bow
In the dark ocean

We stood
On the overturned boat
And watched