New Harbor, October 2020 by Cindy Hill
All Divinity is love or wonder. The moon pulls up the sea, while rocks plunge deeply underneath; ragged, cracked asunder,
synclined metamorphic panoply.
Moonlight fractals over night-black surface,
crimson embers dance on dying coals.
A Fresnel beam each fifteen seconds passes,
warning of Monhegan Island's shoals.
Pulse and gentle pulse, the sea, the shore,
the turn of granite tide and melting stones,
waves erode the soul down to its core.
Pulse of wonder, cut by calling crows
navigating limbs of twisted pine.
Gnarled roots delve into the divine.
* "A Valediction of the Book," 4th stanza, John Donne