How Many

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!