Nor' easters, the wind and the rain...

The poem goes back to my childhood. There was always much drama to witnessing the impending storms that would gather over Gardiner's Bay on the east end of long island. The work should speak for itself;



Gardiner’s Bay

November’s grey mood
had poised itself
over this sea-splashed scape.
Gardiner’s Bay is deep in its
green hue. Swells of tide
slide and ply and we glimpse
the white insides,
so quick they hide.

The poet’s raging rhythm
and ancient rhyme, the mariner knows–
has heard so close the sea’s ceaseless song.

Off Montauk an ornery nor’easter
forms; brings ominous cumuli gathering.
An autumnal storm bears down
you can smell its briny breath
the plain sense that Stevens knows
is the season of pending death.

Upon a knoll a cottage sits
A fire of driftwood from within burns,
embers warm those inside...