The Reach

The Reach

It's Maine...
And it's Autumn
The birches have just begun turning
It's life and it's dying
The lobstermen's boats come returning
With the catch of they day in their holds
  and the young boys cold and complaining
The fog meets the beaches and out on
  the Reach it is raining —

It's father and son
It's the way it's been done since the
  old days
It's hauling by hand ten miles out
  from the land where their chow waits
All the days get so lonely and long
  and seas grow so stormy and strong but
The Reach will sing welcome as homeward
  they hurry along.

And the morning will
  blow away
As the waves crash and fall
And the Reach like a siren sings
  as she beckons and calls
As the coastline recedes from view
And the seas swell and roll
I will take from the Reach
  all that she has to teach
To the depths of my soul —

The wind brings a chill
There's a frost on the sill in the morning
It creeps through the door
At the edge of the shore
  ice is forming
Soon the northers will bluster and blow
And the woods will be whitened
  with snowfall
And the Reach will lie frozen
  for the lost and unchosen to row —

And the morning will
   blow away
As the waves crash and fall
And the Reach like a siren sings
  as she beckons and calls
As the coastline recedes from view
And the seas swell and roll
I will take from the Reach
  all that she has to teach
To the depths of my soul —