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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4562 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Mr. Blue Gary Blankenship First fog of morning Mr. Blue dons dirty blue gortex to blend in the day’s first haze, first trip to the beach, limit eighteen bivalves. An hour to dig, an hour to clean and freeze, an hour to rest-- and change to red Pendleton coat, gray Dockers, black rubber knee-highs. Another dig, another limit to clean and can when sun and tide are high. Still warm, evening, Mr. Blue dons yellow hat and slicker third of five trips, the last change black to fool the night. And who is fooled? Not game warden, fellow diggers, neighbors and drinking buddies. Mr. Blue staggers over rock and stone, as arthritic limbs protest two many trips over beach logs and rubble? Seventy-seven years of fog and evening chill as the harvest grows smaller yearly, shrunken limbs and granite joints, the price Mr. Blue pays to continue the life he led when he first led Mrs. Blue across the sand. As the fog rolls in with night’s chill, Mr. Blue dreams of hidden dunes, sandy rendezvous’ and tomorrow’s harvest never to be eaten, a clouded mirror to the best part of his life. |
