Cape Spear, New Brunswick

By Richard L. Provencher

Wed, 17 Aug 2011

2 comments

We’re voyeurs from across Baie Verte
watching Nova Scotia’s shore,
lights a-blinking from Pugwash to
North Port.

Later in Port Elgin, New Brunswick
fishermen and their growing tales
hurry across our supper table

about crops, kids, taxes, and of course
lobster fishing flavors the
conversation-

“250 traps finally tarred,
shameful only eleven fishing boats
now carry on the tradition…”

are further thoughts from men
hardened in long years
upon the sea, their heritage.

Millers are a parade of flutters
against our window pane.

First published January 2004
Issue 8 Ink Magazine

Permalink Submitted by maggyvaneijk on Wed, 2011-08-17 19:33

Love the sense of movement in this piece, all your descriptions are in some sort of motion. A beautiful poem!

Permalink Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on Thu, 2011-08-18 02:19

Thank you so much, Maggie... It's like the swaying of a fishing dory, Eh? Richard LP

Richard L. Provencher