Jnana grew up far from the seashore or even mountains. He didn't encounter the ocean until he reached adolescence and visited Florida on a camping trip with some of his dad's old Army Air Force buddies. Jnana next saw the sea his spring break of his senior year of college, with his then-girlfriend and her parents. After that, the pace picked up, especially once he moved to northern New England, now half of his life ago. As these poems demonstrate, the more he gets to know the North Atlantic, the more in awe he is.

New England thrived on seafaring, designing and building distinguished vessels along its forested shores and sailing them around the globe to Europe, Africa, South America, Asia, the West Coast, and back in the conduct of trade and adventure or in pursuit of whales for the oil to illuminate domestic nights. The memories are imprinted in the muscle and soul of its people, including those Yankees who built and inhabited the house where Jnana now dwells.

Tides rise and fall dramatically across New England, up to six feet an hour where he lives at the far end of Maine. You learn to be alert, even wary. Storms blow in unannounced and clear away just as dramatically. Others, especially the dreaded nor'easters, linger as unnamed out-of-season hurricanes, sometimes with heavy snow or a blizzard.

He has come to love lighthouses and treasures opportunities to climb up within them to savor the view from the top. But don't get too romantic, it was a harsh, often dangerous, life for the keeper and his family. These poems reflect that reality and more.

Bits of sea chanteys – the chanted or sung work ditties of sailors over the years – however muffled and muted by the wind, flit through background, even if you don't quite catch all of their words.

Best of all are the glorious days at the beach, often with family or friends, as these poems relate.

Yes, the ocean can get personal. Listen and see sea, then, in these pages.