Today's poem is by Richard Levine

Working
       

The ancient people of Newfoundland walked
winter's breath above and below frozen water,
moon, and starlight. At all hours, they believed
and cut holes as wide as their shoulders in ice.

When tides were out and the polished, muddy
bottom in sight, they'd slip under the ice crust
to gather clams and crabs and seaweed. Ever
on guard against the return of tide, they crawled
as if near the mud-spangled mouth of death. Out
and back, with only moonlight and ice to guide.

Reading of this ritual on a museum wall in Montreal,
freed from toil by a brief vacation, it seemed more
familiar than exotic—struggling for light and space
to seek sustenance and work against my own fears.

Copyright © 2024 Richard Levine All rights reserved
from Now in Contest
Fernwood Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission