A FEW THOUSAND WALKS BY THE LITTLE PAMET RIVER: ONE POET'S GEOGRAPHY

A stream meanders through the marsh, and where it parallels the road Galvin walk beside it, out to a bay beach parking lot, then down the strand a half mile or so to a stone jetty, one of two that keeps the tide--and wind-mauled sands from closing the entrance to the harbor. Over generations the river has moved back and forth on the land between these two hills like a whip cracked in very slow motion. Among other things Galvin shares that for years they are observing the annual courtship ritual of the owls, and the occupation of the nest, and the owlets at the edge of the nest crying for food as the male and female decimated the area to stuff the throats of their offspring.