Sometimes we wonder Why we keep calling the same number When the telephone rings Until we return the phone to the receiver Maybe someday Our Father will answer And laugh as He says “I’ve been waiting for your call all week”
I recognize that “Until we return the phone to the receiver” calls out my age and the year this poem was written.
I cannot pretend to know or understand what your experiences have been. If you connected with this poem, the comments section is for you to share your thoughts and/or experiences.I am grateful to anyone that chooses to share – I make that space for you.Thank you for taking the time to read this poem today.
Today’s poem is dedicated to a special demographic. For those unaware, Accomack County is one of the hardest hit by the coronavirus pandemic in Virginia. Tangier Island, one of our treasured communities, is safe, but if the pandemic reaches its shores the results could be devastating. I’ve been a Bull Islander and a Shoreman, and by that, I am blessed.
Ode To The Chesapeake Bay Watermen
We go out in boats Catch the sun’s morning rays In nets and crab pots Tossed over the sides Into brackish green depths These channels – our roadways Through marshes and creeks The bay feeds our veins Where we have sewn seeds Young oysters – new reefs Repairing pollution To save our way of life Our houses on stilts (As sea levels rise) Overlook a world over water And ospreys laugh songs We bring in our bushels To markets by shores Sell seafood by dozens No quotas or weights And pray to a God For mercy and hope In the next hurricane There never been Noahs In the many Great Floods But still, we are People of faith
Thank you so much for reading my poem today! If you found its words meaningful, please consider liking, commenting, and/or sharing it with others. Truly, I am grateful for the time you spent reading my work.