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      May 21, 2013Why Men Go CrabbingDiane Stone

      Something about men and boats:
      the hopeful way they nod
      to each other, even
      before the wind kicks up
      and grants permission.
      The honest way men clamber
      over gunwales, hauling bum knees,
      muscles stiff from wading
      through cold waves
      with traps and oars in hand,
      out of breath and out of shape
      yet willing to lend tired arms to pain.
      They know the rules of daily limits
      and closed waters, the art of knots
      and bait buckets packed
      with expectations.
      But joy is something else,
      something more than reading tides
      and steering clear of shoals;
      it’s more about—somehow
      getting one damn thing just right.

      from #21 - Summer 2004

      Diane Stone

      “My grandfather taught me that poetry happens anywhere. He quoted his favorite poems even when we went fishing. Because of him, I think of poetry as a best friend. It helps me focus, helps me remember those tiny details from years ago, helps me see the big picture, reminds me to be patient.”