Living on the Edge

a day long storm during the March full moon left numerous clues of its visit...
the erosion of the dunes and coastline among them

along the beach are buoys, bottles and boots,
lobster traps, tires, blue gloves, orange rubber gloves,
all delivered by the forceful waves from the mighty ocean

along the beach are fence sections
some resembling a makeshift raft by a desperate castaway

along the beach are boards of all lengths and thicknesses
the remains that were once stairs, porches or boardwalks of houses
that sit along the coast and survived nor'easterns for years...
 now they've been destroyed by the incessant walloping
from the forceful waves of an ocean steadily creeping closer and closer... 
pipes that have not seen the light of day for decades are exposed

along the beach are mounds of different shapes and sizes
made up of large heavy burlap sandbags, once filled with sand,
and strategically placed in front of houses and dunes for protection...
they are now nothing but litter on the beach

an injured gull, his wing broken, sits motionless among the debris 
waiting for death, 
and I wonder if one of these boards or some debris is to blame for its injury

trees, or what's left of them, pepper the beach

with dozens more slowly dying as they lose the ground
where their roots held them in place as they grew majestically
towering over the tallest house for longer than most of us remember

the waves are still strong and high as we take our walk,
and tracks left by a passerby are immediately erased
by an incoming wave
no trace of this passerby's presence remains
and I wonder,
when will Matunuck be just a memory 
once it is erased by an incoming wave from an inevitable storm