Cricket by the Bay

{Dedicated to Daddy. Happy birthday.}

In 1950,

Way back when,

Fall began

And a life began.

Down by the bay

Where the tall grass grows,

The crabs come alive,

And the tides

Ebb and flow.

Silver sides,

And flounder too

Excite at the end

Of a line.

A sun baked spine,

Tanning lines,

And bare feet

Sunk in sand

Mark the Cricket.

Loud and small,

Heard over them all,

Young Cricket bobs

Up and down.

Ev, Herb, Marge,

May, Nel, Roy,

And Bob – what a crew.

The Cricket grew

Older and wiser

With bricks,

Bikes, and

Dog bites.

Riptides and

Curling waves

Bashed the boat

On race day.

He passed the test

Of time and tide

Sitting in the stand

With whistle in hand.

Salt water still flows

In his blood,

Though the bay

Is hours away.

Every sandpiper trail

And bright colored sail

Brings me back to

The Cricket by the bay.


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I am a 7-year-old​ stuck in a twenty-something's body. I enjoy long walks on the beach and peanut butter on waffles. If the following combinations of letters mean anything to you: OYAN, LotR, F.R.O.G., AiO, OBPC, DIY Then we can be friends. And if not, we still can be friends!

One thought on “Cricket by the Bay”

  1. My very Special and Talented Catherine!! . . . you captured so many of my childhood memories in such a great, great way!! . . . I am So glad we had a chance to meet the “Captain” by the “Bay” at Oyster Creek when you were a little girl, and saw the small crabs crawling along the bulkhead – what fun that was! Love, Dad 🙂


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