Weather, wear, and time have stripped the old shack of its newness, long ago.
Stand'n still - serve'n still - on shifty sands, Clapboard walls, Wedged upright by cinder block and truss, Have held their own Against nature's muscle.
Like a prom dress in the moonlight, Cappy shows off a giant, red crab in neon.
........
Mr. Arthur Arnold Armbrewster pulls his catch before light, seven days a week.
As his small boat chugs back to dock , he watches For the lamplight from the Crab Shack porch.
Cappy Armbrewster has lived in this little hummock, twixt swamp and sea, his whole life long - And his only hymn is the fisherman's song.
He watches the outline of his restaurant take on shape as the sky brightens - As his little town sparkles With first light.
..............
Bill stands in the middle of his small tribe of curious hens - Look'n out over the bay while he fills their cistern
"Listen! "
Bill, and his birds, take a start... Feel their hearts Jump a beat...
As he watches Cappy's catch approach the farside dock,
The whispers come again...
"Listen!"
"Listen to the water and wind... Listen to the whispers the land shares as it slides under the bay... Listen to the bark Spoon against its trunk... Listen past the sound of what you want..."
And Bill obeys.
He has spent his life listen'n.
And, on that Sunday, he hears an answer he's been wait'n for.
............
Stella accepts the cup of steamy coffee With a small sigh of gratitude.
" Thank you, Miguel... I swan! Don't know what we'd do without you.."
She hears the screen door squeak and slap as Miguel goes back to his breakfast boil.
(His secret potion of spice and seawater that tourists brag bout when they get home.
Boiled shrimp with hushpuppies and scalding coffee is a special treat for those willing to get up at dawn and pay three times it's worth.)
She hangs the lantern high on a storm hook and notices she is right on time... In the early dawn she can make out the crab boat on its way in, And she can just make out Bill's silhouette against the eastern sky.
On a clear day, she can see him wave at her lantern.
.........
Soon, time will carry them through the mornn.
Craddled in a hammock, Woven of minutes, The fine folk of Soundside will gently rock through their routines and rituals As they run their Sunday course.
Folks will take notice of who comes to service. Who goes fish'n. Who shows up lost.
(Sunday morn'n hearts can be as soft as marshmallow.... Or as hard as sun-burnt clay.)
"You cook'n in or eat'n out?" Is the most asked question, As folks clump together on church steps Or in park'n lots.
And it is noticed by quite a few That Bill picks up the Preacher in his '55 Oldsmobile.
"This is a treat!" Preacher says with a big grin... "Feels so special... almost gotta be a sin !"
The two men laugh and roll down the windows... "This was my Daddy's pride and joy." Bill says,
"I try to take her out when I can... course now... she's more like a big toy."
After a moment of awkward silence, Bill asks the good preacher Thomas if Cappy's Crab Shack woll be OK.
He holds his breath... wonder'n what his friend will say.
A quick sharp silence... Then the answer...
" Ok. "
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