In this week’s poem, Carl Little writes about the resilience and delight that our childhood can offer us, even as we get older and older. I love this poem’s vivid and dynamic imagery of sunfish nests and apples flung from poles, and I love the poem’s wise intimation: that our younger selves not only endure, but can help save us.
Carl Little is the author of Blanket of the Night: Poems (Deerbrook Editions, 2024). His poetry has appeared in The Café Review, Maine Arts Journal and other publications, as well as in several anthologies edited by Wesley McNair. “The Pond of Life” is featured in Alive to This: Essays on Living Fully by 20 Maine Writers (Littoral Books, 2024). He lives on Mount Desert Island.
Submissions to Deep Water are open through the end of the year. Deep Water is especially eager to share poems by Black writers, writers of color, indigenous writers, LGBTQ+ writers, and other underrepresented voices. Submit your credits at mainewriters.org/deep-water.
Cling
Revisit boyhood as you age
recover hair that shone,
beaver teeth and eyes that found
sunfish nests by the dock.
Stab rotted apples with tip
of bamboo pole, fling them high
into sky beyond the garden
where they disappear
into leaves burned red
by fall. Climb trees
to watch the world
from a safe distance: wars,
spats, friends who fell.
Cling when seasons shift
and doubt returns, but
know those glowing nests,
apples cast, stalwart trees
hold you steady against
winds that threaten to
wrench you from your perch.
“Stay safe, young man.”
Who said that? You look around,
dazed and dumbfounded, then
drop gently to the ground.
– Carl Little
Megan Grumbling is a poet and writer who lives in Portland. DEEP WATER: Maine Poems is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. “Cling,” copyright 2025 by Carl Little, was first published in Maine Arts Journal. It appears by permission of the author. Submissions to Deep Water are open now and through the end of the year. For more information, go to mainewriters.org/deep-water.
