Strolling along, humming an Irish tune
Jack Sheedy
Upon a recent sunny Sunday afternoon, I had a yearning to don jacket and boots and pay a visit to the muddy terrain of a favorite tumbling creek. Spilling from a placid pond, over stone, under boulder, through culvert, the creek’s mumbling waters traveled beyond this kingdom of mossy ground and gnarly root toward a vast salt marsh nearby. And like the twisting and turning stream, I followed.
After a long winter, there is something inspiring in this raw and rustic Cape Cod landscape – this salt marsh world of swaying grass – encouraging one to put pen to paper like some roving Irish poet: The sun’s light spills in golden streams, upon the bold, upon the meek; beauty arrives in mid-day dreams, through flaxen reeds by salt marsh creek.