I was never so in love as I was when I was a Red Knot and I stopped in Stone Harbor

only to find that all the store fronts were closed besides the fudge kitchen– I bought

a box for you even though I don’t think any of us really want maple walnut fudge

I thought it wasn’t really an option though– no an obligation but a nod to the importance of all the people we would buy fudge for if we had enough little white coffin boxes to fill with the confection– the other store fronts were closed anyway.

I thought about us. I thought about how I never wanted anything more than see the

town when it was thriving– Maybe a July night near my birthday when the little Red Knot were almost old enough to fly– I wanted to purchase a snow globe–

I’d take it back to you– I’d shake it and say that it never snowed n my wings when I was there

but it sure felt like November without you–And then there were the other Red Knots and they ate horseshoe crabs with me– not out of hunger but out of compulsion– horse crabs

taste like metal and blood–

I felt bad for the things– piles of them

on frayed reeds of the beach– scattered like unworn bike helmets– if birds ate fudge I might have nibble at it that day.

But I will be back to you again and I will tell you about the horseshoe crabs– though I might lie a bit. Maybe I’ll tell you the store fronts were open and that I ate oysters at a raw bar jostled between two friends I made on the journey who now purchased houses on the harbor. Maybe I will be a plover or a tern. I could be a terrapin for you. Maybe the horseshoe crabs will taste like taffy or maple walnut fudge.