May, 2015
The estuary is in constant motion
an ever shifting landscape
converging currents ripple
mercury shimmer
scribbles of foam
undulate along leading edges.
A black water river the Cape Fear
clear yet stained dark with tannins
slips through forested swamps.
Channels converge
outside my hotel window, mix with salt
surging up the intracoastal waterway.
The plan was to locate and study documents
plat maps, wills diaries, slave rolls
but the river catches me
won’t let me go.
A very early subtropical storm hangs offshore.
Ana small in stature
yet fierce enough to be named.
Acres of marsh grass billow and sway
brilliant green in a rain splattered landscape.
A NOAA ship scribes lazy circles in the river.
Two days I watch
and then all at once I have to go to the ocean.
I’ve never chased storms before
but something deep in my chest
pulls me
down the string of barrier beaches
to Bald Head Island.
Laughing gulls and grackles jam with the gale
a gawky surfer paces barefoot along the breakwater
sand streams across my ankles
mountains of clouds climb the sky.
