The place where cod and cliff and cove

kiss fog and fisherman, where humpbacks blow their

watery horns and puffins dance on peat and locals invite

you to the hearth to warm your damp soul in July

where crumpled piers dot the rocky shore

alongside each fishing shack

and each b’y pulls his dory to dock in the dusk

when the capelin and lobster are done.

The place where crab and sea arch

play tag as the tide serves salmon or

halibut cheek at the Twillingate

theater, family lore lights the stage

peals of laughter are washed down with wine

while Jack was Every Inch a Sailor and Saltwater

Joys are accompanied with Gary’s accordion,

Chelsea belts forth in Newfoundland gusto

guests wipe wet cheeks and notes fade on the

Labrador Sea, Will the Circle be Unbroken?