Hearing your words and not a word among them (Sonnet XXXVI)

Hearing your words, and not a word among them 
Tuned to my liking, on a salty day 
When inland woods were pushed by winds that flung them 
Hissing to leeward like a ton of spray,
I thought how off Matinicus the tide 
Came pounding in, came running though the Gut, 
While from the Rock the warning whistle cried, 
And children whimpered and the doors blew shut; 
There in the autumn when the men go forth,
With slapping skirts the island women stand
In gardens stripped and scattered, peering north, 
With dahlia tubers dripping from the hand: 
The wind of their endurance, driving south, 
Flattened your words against your speaking mouth.