Anodyne
Thursday, December 29, 2016
 

Swanson Channel 
by Clint Burnham, thinking of PC

(from a thirty five year old chart, Dec. 29, 2016)

With a prospect of Portland Island, a pale dark smudge across the horizon, the thickness of a pancake, the water below a turquoise blue, high tide, folds and ripples of tide or wake or wave, the water ruffled by wind and a light, almost invisible rain. A tide-rip: ziggurats of calm current in the mouth of the bay. Six to eight logs or deadheads bob. Miles off, a ferry passes to the left, stately, a slice of wedding cake wedging the water, its lights hard yellow candies. The sky, a “grey imperfect misty dawn” (Melville), overcast but clouds almost visible, a more aqueous greyer turquoise blue, the colour of Portland Island four hours later, but for now the lines of cloud slowly heave into view, deliberate, ponderous, delicate, this “dullish rainyish morning” (D. Wordsworth).



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