A sense of place: Accabonac Harbour

I 've just completely this little writing that centers around my childhood recollections of Accabonac Harbour which is on the east end of Long Island. It is a peaceful and serene place and January's winter days were always crisp as the wind would come full force from the water unhindered by trees or brush. This is a small reflection of those special days:



"When amongst the elements"

I have withstood and tasted the sea-salt brine
of the wind-swept spray
from Accabonac’s deep-freeze
January harbour.
How her wind of foam and froth
bites the face– pellets of little, brittle
pine needles...
Nor’eastern’s cold in its permeating mood
finds itself through army/navy waffle shirts,
and all such layers of clothes–
like the slanting rain it seeps
through the slightest of window cracks.
There is something so Steven’s-like plain
that as the body cringes in permafrost
disbelief, we sense at this very moment–
as the snowman must– we are alive.