Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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Marshfield Woman. One. My friend, Eddy Fineberg, of high school days, and I, Decided to take a longish bike trip from Newton, Mass, to the Cape. Unbeknownst to us, a hurricane was pending, But into the unknown frey we went. On a beach near Marshfield on the Cape, the storm met us. I remember the wind and the waves-- The sand, driving parallel to the ground against our faces. As young guys, this was just adventure. On the beach, we met a group who invited us to their beach house. Once inside, they explained that their father Had constructed this snug and low structure to withstand any storm; It was true: low concrete walls wedged into the rock wall. The interaction amongst us was wondrous for me. I was invited by one--a woman of about 40-- To visit her and her childrens' Marshfield home someday. She was lovely, friendly and sympathetic towards a young man. Eddy and I stayed and slept on the floor during the night's storm. Next day, we all eventually said goodbye And I waited in my heart to make that intriguing visit. Frank Maurer 22 January 2023 1120 AM