~
The setting sun lays down a carpet on the bay.
A school of clouds across the skyline floats
over humpbacked islands of pointed firs.
Closer to shore, three skiffs face out to sea,
and closer still, silhouetted
against the light, my wife wades,
legs cut off at the knee by undulating waters,
back straight, arms out to the side for balance
(always important as we get older),
testing each step, her face turned to the sea,
while on this shore of tide pools and broken shells,
I, who find the water too cold,
the stones too sharp for my old feet,
lean against a barnacle-encrusted rock
watching, wading in gratitude.
~
The Geriatric Pilgrim: Traveling the Landscape of Faith and Grief 
This is a wonderful visual poem Rick, to along with the photo of your dear wife..well, do I know the outstretched arms to keep my balance! I loved seeing the photos with you, the Leddys and Parkers amidst the amazing trolls..how amazing our poetry group is and how great you Mainers could gather at the Garden…fondly, Peace
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Thnx, Peace, hope you’re having a serene and productive summer.
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thank you for a beautiful reflection. I can see Mary Lee waddling gracefully in the soothing water.
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Love it, Rick! The mental picture, the visual picture, and the heart picture. I can feel the gratitude you are experiencing.
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Allow me to just echo others comments above, Rick.
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Thanks for sharing the lovely image of your wife. She looks as if she’s recoiling from the cold water. Your poem paints a lovely picture of the sea. I can see the shore, the stones, and the tide pools in my minds eye. 🙂
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Thnx, Nancy, but you don’t know my wife. She’s gone wading in January…
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Wow! 🥶
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