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How many years is it
From the long past decades
When we were young
And brought our children
To Martha’s Vineyard?

I often think “How many?”
How many pails of clams dug,
How many dozens of crabs netted,
How many pounds of mussels
Picked from the rocks?

How many kinds of fish
Wrestled in, gutted and filleted?
How many baskets of blueberries,
Or bags of wild grapes picked,
Or rose hips or strawberries?

How many dinners eaten of
Clams, crabs, and mussels
Dripping in melted butter?
How many dozens of jars
Of jams and jellies, carefully tended?

Where are the children now?
Grown and moved away.
Few crabs now live in the pond,
Some clam beds closed for pollution,
Some mussels still, but smaller.

Many places we loved to pick
The wild blueberries and grapes
Built up now with homes,
Even the once wide beaches
Eroding with each storm

So much has passed, but oh!
How many things remain!
Like our beloved ocean isle,
We ourselves have changed
And now have different dreams.

And so I think – how many yet
Of pink and gold Menemsha sunsets
And sunny beach days?
How many roses and beach plums to see,
And shifting ocean views?

How many drinks on the porch
And jokes and chats with friends?
How many velvet foggy morns,
Birds crowding at the feeders
And squabbling in the trees?

How many blazing autumns
And blue October skies?
How many blankets of snow and
Warm lilac rains? It really doesn’t matter
For we’ll treasure every one!

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