Marie Gauthier

Even though I have to work this afternoon, that’s still what it seems like, an entire Mother’s weekend, because Lance and Vincent went out this morning to give me some quiet time before work — Lance bought Vincent a life preserver yesterday, and they drove to Ashfield Lake to go canoeing. He didn’t bring the diaper bag, sippy cup, snacks, or a change of clothes, or actually prepare in any other fashion besides the life jacket (which is, okay, the most essential item) so let’s hope nothing untoward happens.

Lance suggested we go to the beach tomorrow. He says there was a moon tide today, so lots of interesting stuff are sure to have washed up on the shore. I’m not opposed to the idea, though it involves driving a couple hours, as long as it’s a nice day. There’s always a strong sea wind, and when we took a walk on a beach in Yarmouth back in December, Vincent ended up sick. These early spring days can fool you. I don’t want to spend my day shivering.

New England beaches simply aren’t very warm. Before Vincent, visiting family in Georgia, we spent the day on St. Simon’s Island, and O, the water was so warm and wonderful. And there were great waves. You can close your eyes and know you’re standing on a southern shore by merely dipping a toe in the ocean. On the Cape, you wouldn’t want to dip more than that, the water is so cold.

I am a New England girl in every way excepting sweet tea & beaches. But we’ll probably head to the coast tomorrow anyway.

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I’ve been dipping into Jake Adam York’s A Murmuration of Starlings while I await Stefanie Marlis’ books, and I’m blown away: full of beauty, violent, elegiac, this is one fierce book, memorializing the martyrs of the Civil Rights era. This excerpt is the first section of a longer poem, and captures some of the music of his poems:

From Tuck:

There is a sky and
there is a sky.

Two birds

converge
from different mornings.

Starlings, Shakespeare’s
fine-etched mimics

echo
beat and beat,

collapse in glass.