This small volume of poetry is intended to describe the stoic, hardy magnificence of seacoast New Hampshire—and the experience of growing up in its world of granite stone walls, crashing breakers, and soaring gulls.
Rye Harbor reprises a long-unavailable poetry book written five decades ago about growing up on the seacoast of New Hampshire. A former Navy test pilot and former chief executive of an aerospace corporation in Alexandria, Virginia, Bruce Valley lives in Rye Harbor, New Hampshire, plays jazz trumpet, and writes of matters which touch heart and soul.
Skating on a solitary grey afternoon Through a soft blanket of snow crystals, I saw a tiny speck. Swiftly it traversed the frozen expanse, The lumpy birched shoreline outlining its motion, Then disappeared around a bend. Another skater had picked this day To chill his hands and warm his thoughts On the Mill Pond ice. I followed. The speck became a figure Weaving along the fickle path Of an errant stream. Bound as I in heavy clothes, He lumbered in an awkward rhythm Like maples bent with icy load By frosty winter winds. As I drew close, he heard the sound Of his pursuer and stopped, His breath whitening in the air. As he brought a pipe to his mouth, My father smiled.