Edited and introduced by Wesley McNair, Maine poet laureate.

This reader’s choice poem from a past column comes from Allison Williams of Alfred. She writes: “‘Sardine Packer’ is posted over my desk because it states exactly what packing sardines was like. I never did it but a friend did; her picture and obituary is posted with the poem.”

Sardine Packer

By Tom Sexton

The moon drew the bay to itself

like a lover at full tide

when I was young and full of life.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

Silver fish spilled from every net,

and all my days were buttery

when I worked at the cannery.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

My children came to see me work.

I was the fastest on the line.

They liked to slide in herring slime.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

The new owner won’t come to town

to watch us nip and cut and pack.

He bought and gave us all the sack.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

My daughter’s made her final bow.

My grandson’s crying on my knee.

But they can’t live on scenery.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

Summer people come here now

to walk along the quiet bay.

I had my time. I had my day.

Oh, I could make my scissors dance.

Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Poem copyright © 2012 Tom Sexton. Reprinted from Bridge Street at Dusk, Loom Press, 2012, by permission of Tom Sexton. Questions about submitting to Take Heart may be directed to Gibson Fay-LeBlanc at mainepoetlaureate@gmail.com or 207- 228-8263.