The wounds of a rural Maine countryside
Will be generations
Perhaps eons more before there is healing.
Before the glacial till is spread thinly.
Before coastal cracks and jutting boulders
Are balmed and dressed.
Smoothed by soothing sea winds.
Molten anger long interrupted
By the slapping of waves
Cries and weeping of salty gales.
Briefly they are eclipsed by that first warm
Day of Spring.
And so it continues.
Briny winds in open wounds.
The most hopeful sign
The return of last years flock of goslings.
Bringing down, fertilizer, and eggs.
Their only cries are to call their children closer
And to teach them how to come home.
Aline Potvin is a Mainer and runs her own naturopathic medical practice. Nature, paints, journals, and family never stay too far from her, for she appreciates them dearly. Every day she is teaching, exploring, and learning the art her practice.