On a cloudy Monday morning Bearded fathers with children Trekked to the docks Carrying plastic buckets And beat-up coolers To store the catch. As we boarded the rust-eaten boat I, a nine-year-old city girl in glasses, Saw young deserted men Chopping squid, And wondered if they Even had a life on the shore. We set sail, and I heard the captain Speak in his vehement voice: “Bait your hooks, hold your lines,” And then I caught a glimpse of Hyannis Dissolving in the distance Like a homeland I’ve never visited. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts
July/August 2020
SHELL WORDS AT FOREST BEACH
This shell reminds me of a tiny gold rose. Shaped like a broken spiral staircase, Outside it feels like a soft young chestnut, Inside it shines like a sunset over Nantucket Sound. If I entered I’d see drops of saltwater Arranged like letters on an ancient scroll. Holding my shell I feel like I’m climbing The tallest tower in the world. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts
RIDING TO THE CAPE ON A FRIDAY EVENING
It was a hot and windy evening When we were driving to Cape Cod. All I could do was chew a piece of gum; I was so bored my head was spinning. But then my window started to turn Into the most incredible picture, But the picture wasn’t a picture: A night sky full of stars. I saw the bridge, old and rundown. Moonlight made the trees glow. I was so happy: the canal down below Promised that I was almost home. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts
