And there stood a man like you or me

An Eider tics closer to the shore.

And the rest afloat together, rafting out the whitewater to the green sea.

Claire uses the binoculars and admires their feathered throats. Bishop’s hand in his lap. Salt and their backs up against the seawall. “Are you ready?” He means ready for winter. Claire writes something in her little book. The light in Claire’s eyes shine and Bishop digs his heels in the sand. Each minute he looks at her, she appears younger and younger.

“Can we go out there?”

“It’s a couple hours away.”

“A couple hours?”

“Yea, It’s in Boston.”

When she says harbor he thinks she means Harvard. In her little book it says, Learn duck hunting. Claire hasn’t given up. She believes in miracles. She tells him how creative her daughter is. Childless Bishop smiles at her.

“My daughter likes stories.”

“I used to write stories.”

“I know,” She watches the duck hunters at sea.

Claire thinks about going out there, tying up her hair, and tossing innards and guts into the Atlantic. All of God filled into each drop.

It’s not just the sea

Our Lord built homes

And wiped His brow

And there stood a Man like you or me