Produced by Dennis Camire

This week’s poem is by David McCann of Higgin’s Beach.



By David McCann


above the river,

dry, white, bits

of eelgrass, barks

under the feet like a seal;


to be distinguished from the beach

sand in all discernible ways the same

without the bark.


Wet expanse of tide’s reach

smooth, here dull, there

a film of water

reflecting beach-goers, birds, rocks.


Runnels, beach draining

into the waves,

stand and they wear away beneath the feet

in the down rushing.


A different substance, coarse,

flecked with bits of shell, stone,

or wet, like the dough the feet tread three inches

deep at each step and stop


has a salt marsh smell

by the river, of marsh mollusk gull,


where a crab shell turns

over and over in the current.


Dennis Camire can be reached at [email protected]

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