In wintertime I often dream about Maine. There are parts
of Heron Island that only exist in my dream world, boats that could never really be seaworthy but somehow carry crazy loads of belongings. Even in December the tides of Maine enter my imagination and carry me far beyond the shelter of our Virginia home. When my mother was alive there was a boat we called The Veggie Boat that visited the island on Friday mornings. Many residents of the twenty-four island houses would arrive to buy the most beautiful and over-priced tomatoes, raspberries, oysters, cookies and bouquets of flowers. We all complained about how expensive it was but loved every perfect salad and pie that we ate. When my mother died the owner of the boat gave me buckets of flowers in her honor with tears flowing down his face. I can still see him, eyes full of water and appreciation for a woman who loved any bouquet of flowers with a beam of light running through it.
blessing the boats
may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that
— Lucille Clifton, “blessing the boats” from Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000. © 2000 by Lucille Clifton