Easter Sunday morning, do I need better fuel to sort out a rough night than a stroll along the chilly North River with no company except voices in my head and a sunrise-drenched-red Melvin E. Lemmerhirt alongside?  But aside from my stuff, I wonder who’s Melvin’s namesake  and what preoccupations fill the  wheelhouse besides concerns about paycheck and health?

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Tax Day 2009, I feel drained as a cold wind whips out of the east and spray atomizes over Megan‘s bow  as she drag races a small boat.

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And wintry gusts nearly strip the flag off Maryland, pushing against tide and spray and past jade-green Sea Raven with its unique high stacks.

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They shuttle the KVK

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while I postpone getting to work.

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