—for Rachel Carson, Newcastle Inn, Southport, Maine
The wall photograph—taken right there—
a girl, lying on your stomach, face almost touching
the tidal pond. Looking for what? Water fleas,
red-plumed tube worms,
the widening rings of being.
How much time to see—
as much time as it takes to make a friend—
cunners & hat pin urchins,
snails & gills, rock grit & us.
I’ve read about Aristotle & limpets,
how a muscled foot locomotes
into the sea to feed. How a limpet’s shell
imprints like a scar/tattoo on the home-rock.
And the limpet always returns to the same spot.
Aristotle never figured out how
this homing works.
A home can be a room in an inn,
beyond the deep & wide, Sheepscot,
sun-dried rocks, glistening.
