New dock section sitting on top of boardwalk.

Pax doing his part, though it is pretty clear that he is not a dockshund.

Exemplary day—thunderstorm in the morning, then clearing to bright sun and a fearsome west-wind. A perfect day to be in harbor and not out battling the whitecaps. With all the moisture, the Kagawong river continues tripping over itself in its rush to the bay, but today it had to muscle its way out past the westerly blow and incoming rollers. After a slow start we made three sections of new dock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Helmsman

O BE swift—
we have always known you wanted us.

We fled inland with our flocks,
we pastured them in hollows,
cut off from the wind
and the salt track of the marsh.

We worshipped inland—
we stepped past wood-flowers,
we forgot your tang, we brushed wood-grass.

We wandered from pine-hills
through oak and scrub-oak tangles,
we broke hyssop and bramble,
we caught flower and new bramble-fruit
in our hair: we laughed
as each branch whipped back,
we tore our feet in half buried rocks
and knotted roots and acorn-cups.

We forgot——we worshipped,
we parted green from green,
we sought further thickets,
we dipped our ankles
through leaf-mould and earth,
and wood and wood-bank enchanted us—-

and the feel of the clefts in the bark,
and the slope between tree and tree—
and a slender path strung field to field
and wood to wood
and hill to hill
and the forest after it.

We forgot—for a moment
tree-resin, tree-bark
sweat of a torn branch
were sweet to the taste.

We were enchanted with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass—
in the shorter grass—
we loved all this.

But now, our boat climbs—hesitates—
drops—
climbs—hesitates—crawls back—
climbs—hesitates—
O be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.

—H.D.