Christmas Morning at Mattapoisett

The harbor is empty of boats.
Bright light glints off waves and white buoys,
aquatic signals.
Mergansers fish the shallows close in near docks.

As I drink my tea,
buffleheads flash through silent dives.
It's an icy scene,
one I look at though two panes of glass.

This morning it was sixteen degrees
and the sky was dark
when I went with my dog to the beach.

Merry Christmas fleas!
Merry Christmas Orion and stars!
Merry Christmas Venus!

Wind was sharp, breath easy to see.
I stood and listened
as the day extended its lease:

first cries of gulls,
then the gabbling of geese and of ducks,
soon the whine of trucks moving fast up on 195
on their way to Boston.