Monhegan Trails – Susan Davis
Each year, the General Store sells a map
marked in black dashes or solid,
distinguishing ‘good’ from ‘fair’ to ‘poor’ trail,
‘moderate’ from ‘difficult’ path.
I travel all the same,
not judging flat, or steep and rocky,
seeking the best place
to view the horizon,
never knowing what’s beyond the edge
where the sun melts like butter
on a hot muffin.
I retrace my steps every year,
where I napped, where I wrote,
whatever was most wanting…
Squeaker Cove, jagged cliffs
scattering waves to spray and foam,
or the smooth quiet of Seal ledges
where ocean gently nudges shore.
Urgency of surf on one coast,
the ease of the other.
Midwives both to poetry.