For your sleek schooners
the sweep of your sweet beach
the slant of your dock house
the gambrel of your restaurant
where all the mates
would come to gab
and mug up by that
big wide hearth

Thanks Capt
for Manter’s shop
chock full of boats
skiffs and punts
dories and the rest
hauled and stowed
respect for their fine lines

Thanks Capt
for your bakery
tucked astride
all these years
fresh coffee for the
ferry ride
Your State Road train
and it’s café
chugging on
in its own way
heading out of town

Thanks Capt
for your proud farm
of sweeping fields
and big old barns
beside the road for all
to see
to hike or ride
grow crops besides
for all the days
that’s yet to be

Thank Capt
for all you’ve done
from those who’ve
followed your
deep wide wake
With Whitefoot handy
just in case
Roy with Charlie and
the crew
Nat and Ross right next door
Miles shaping spars and more
Rick and Gary by the score
they came and left
a harbor full of
wooden boats
pointing to the sky

Thanks Capt
for all you’ve been
the Island’s better
to live in
My first boat was 13 foot
I’d fish for flounder
In the spring
I looked up as you
sailed on by
seemed like your sticks
kissed the sky
Then I grew to wooden barge
From Edgartown we’d
tow our gear
creosote pilings
for your pier
One time we spent
in some small boat
tending lines
in a gale
don’t think we ever even spoke
two men as one
as if by rote
I hate your harbor’s
Northeast winter heave
Our oldest son
sailed with you
he grew up too
You’ve always meant
so much to him
and all our
young and salty crew

Thanks Capt
for your family
Charlene in stride
You look your best
by her side
Your strong sons and all
their pride
with all they’ve gained
themselves
and still your sweep
of beach remains

Thanks Captain Bob
most of all
for getting grade school kids
aboard
to feel the majesty offshore
and how your vessel
in it’s might
bites the breeze
and slowly comes alive
heels and rides
bone in teeth
out to sea
And all along
our Island’s sandy shores
Shenandoah’s bright white hull
now painted black
luffing up to
slack back and
drop her hook
Always proud to see her anchored off our town
I’d veer on by
coming home
I’d turn around
and see
you sitting by the wheel
yawl boat hanging gracefully
we’d dip our heads
and wave

And there’s the
gang of Island kids
dripping wet and all about
diving in and climbing out
swinging in the fading
summer sun
Thanks Capt