On Turtle Rock

I haul the ancient,
rattling trap across the rocks.
Brittle, it leaves a scattered trail
of tiny, fragmented memories in its wake—
memories of its time beneath the seething waters.
Even now they lap
against the jagged edges of the shore
and shatter into a million
clear glass fragments.
I lay the trap to rest
beneath a proud overhang—
the roots of a thick-boughed tree—
posed as the guardian
protecting a fragile child.
My task is finished.
I know that I should follow
the chipped path
back towards the keeper’s house,
but I am unwilling
to trade the untamed rhythm of the current,
even for birdsong and meadowwind.
For the first time
I understand why strangers journey here
to stare at lobster traps
and color-coded buoys,
to peer into this salted mirror.
I could stay here forever
and know myself
and know the water.

Alison Rittershaus, age 14
Trevett, Maine
Center for Teaching and Learning (Edgecomb)
Teacher: Nancie Atwell