Thistles by the Sea

Thistles by the Sea

Braving fog that's coming in

Thistles by the sea

Fog hovers o'er the sea and land

And settles in on me.

Surging in to shore

Comes a misty roll

It overtakes my being

And reaches to my soul.

Don your bright sou'wester

Breathe deep the salty air

As foggy day approaches

To dampen tousled hair.

Wafting through the mist

Sounds a distant horn

Moans within the cloud

All sailors to forewarn.

Tomorrow will dawn brighter

For thistles by the sea

Lifting prickled leaves and head

They'll host a cautious bee.

The sun will kiss the waves

The fog will lift at last

And sailors will go out to sea

Their nets again to cast.

And thistles by the sea

Live on forevermore

Through wind and wave and fog

They'll stand beside the shore.

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My grandparents were "Thistles", as was I.  They came here by ferry from Newfoundland just after they had their first child.  My grandfather was a seal hunter, sent out at the age of 10 or 13 to work on a seal boat; a fisherman and a lobsterman.  The Thistles have always lived by the sea.  And that is what this poem is really about.
I took the picture of the thistles at the edge of the sea, near our (hopefully) new/old cottage...which we are in the process of buying.