Ebb & Flow of A Day

The hour of the fisherman, the hour of the crow.

The water 
in Cundy's Harbor
can rise and fall
as much as 16 feet,
depending upon 
the time of day,
the season,
and the moon. 

Docks, wharfs, 
and moorings
accommodate it,
or pay for it 
if they don’t.

The lobstermen
arrive each morning around 3,
methodically and orderly,
going about their business
under bright lights
shining straight down 
onto the wharf,
frequently shrouded
in thick fog.

Morning on Cundy’s Harbor, ME. Photo by Andy Stover.

They mostly tend 
to their boats
and their traps,
letting their diesel engines warm up,
not saying much
to each other,
other than good morning,
maybe a get well wish 
intended for a sick loved one
at home. 

They stoically shove off,
heading out in the dark
at what E.B. White called
the hour of the fisherman,
the hour of the crow.

They’ll be an hour out
into the solitude of the sea,
likely 12 miles or more
offshore,
checking their traps
starting a half hour 
before sunrise
and stopping 
not long before it goes down.

They'll check dozens to hundreds 
of traps strung together in strings,
pulling them up one by one
from the rocky ocean floor,
seeing what the sea delivers,
keeping the keepers 
and pitching the smaller ones
and the ones with eggs 
back for another day.

The low, steady rumble
of their diesel engines
provides a grounding soundtrack
on their return to the wharf.

There they’ll hoist 
onto the dock
the boxes 
of their daily catch,
have them weighed 
and an accounting made 
before they refuel 
their boats for tomorrow
then head back to their trucks
and drive home,
their ebb and flow 
matching that of the water
and their life on it.