Up at four on a grey morning
To the water with the boat
And dad at the wheel
We glide the boat
Like a sleepwalking child
Into the still waters of Westport

Well beyond the harbor
We drop our lines
And open the Thermos
To coffee sweet with milk and sugar

Rain falls
The rings that emanate from each drop
Spread into the mystery of sunrise
Burning quietly through silence

And the coffee is good.

Drink your coffee. Before it's cold.

Two flat fish take the bait
One after the other on my line.

Rain extinguishes the light.

Dad at the wheel
Takes us home.

Bury them in the garden, he says.
For the tomatoes.

I know. We don't believe in waste.

Dad leaves for work.
I dig in the sand.

One Single Impression