POINT REYES


She stands at the edge of the cliff
Blue jacket, brown knickers
No on has seen her eyes
She is not tall

A girl of 12
With leather boots to her knees
Long dark hair tied back
How often does she hear the cries of men

Now the fog has come in
The night is dark
The lighthouse is dark again
So she appears

The fishermen can see her
They say from near and far
She is there
If you walk to the cliff

You will not see her
She is silent
Guarding the rocks below
She stands straight in the cold air

People tell the story
On nights like these
That her father fished in the ocean
Just off Point Reyes

One night
Dark and raining
The lighthouse attendant died
And there was a heavy fog

She stood watching for her father
It was late and he had not returned
In the morning she was found
At the base of the cliff, among the rocks

Her fathers boat just 30 feet away
She had fallen to his side
The waves lapping at there still bodies
They were together

Now when the lighthouse is dark
She can be seen at the cliff
The fishermen are guided by her
So they avoid the rocks

For a hundred years
She has stood watch
The lighthouse will be gone soon
Will she remain or finally rest


Michael V Hechtman