(For Clayton)

Near the light house at Jonnies
Where the spilled blood makes sharks hungry
Some carefully dump their burdens into the sea
Casting nets near the mouth
And the bay becomes a frenzy
All come to the orgy
Seabirds dance on whitecaps
I too carry on like this in this cold
Spinning my dog’s hair into a fine thread
A cap for winter mixed with hag ribbons
Which trail behind me like tails
Bohemian scarves tattered lace and knotted promises
Waiting for the snap of the big branches
Hands calloused, clearing the roads-shoveling mud, moving granite
We like the cold deep in our bones here
And move in our boots, heavy as anchors -just an appearance
In the campfire the cove song crackles
Brings on the North’s front
And we stay
Chop wood
Sharpening tools
Bake bread
Mending the road