Reflections from my annual Sanity Restoration Vacation in Maine. I spend two weeks alone camping and hiking in the Moosehead Lake Region. After fifty weeks of human congestion, I need time to recharge and rejuvenate My spirit goes flat for most of the year Though I’m normally joyful, filled with good cheer The world seems tuned to negative press Nature is where I go to … Continue reading Refreshing My Sanity
From windswept shore I climbed to rocky perch, Crowned like giant stairs to steepled church, Solid and immovable, no waver, without lurch; Pitching boat ‘mid rolling waves, fragile as the birch, I feared for frail men, how perilous the search; When calmed the wind, I climbed from rocky perch. Continue reading The Frog and the Granite Shore, Part IV
Away the wood, I walked on Granite Shore Pounding waves, like knuckles rapped upon a door Lobster boat, weather-worn in winds that tore And red-faced men, like fishermen of yore Whose raw ripped flesh labored evermore To work the sea that swept the granite shore Continue reading The Frog and the Granite Shore, Part III
One day while in Maine I went for a hike on a sunny September day. I had often driven by the head of the trail but always had some other plan. But this day my goal was to trek to the end of the trail that captured my heart. Called Little Moose Pond, the trail wound on and I soon found my breath coming hard. … Continue reading Forest Magic
No trace left behind As footworn path slips away Forest echoes past Continue reading Primeval
What began in fellowship of open arms, broad smiles and welcoming words soon fell into routine. The wonder of the inchworm’s humped-back crawl faded as attention drifted elsewhere. Like a prairie dog village, heads sank into oblivious existence as curiosity waned. \ I could not describe the Bavarian village, framed by towering Alpine mountains and last seen as a child, well-enough so you’d know it … Continue reading The Filing Cabinet. And a Poem
I come to Fox Island to meditate, to reflect as I gaze across the water. The hypnotic sound and motion of sea and wind, crashing wave and crying gull become a lyric in the song of the universe.The earthly presence of the granite beneath me, the salt air and the pungent odor of decaying sea-wrack give way to the ethereality of thought and I wander … Continue reading Fox Island, revisited
I come to Fox Island to meditate, to reflect, to gaze across the sea until the hypnotic sound and motion of sea and wind and crashing wave become a lyric in the song of the universe. The worldly presence of the granite beneath my bottom, the salt air, and the pungent odor of decaying sea-wrack give way to the etheriality of thought and I wander … Continue reading Rebirth
Maine Street, and the town gazebo sits empty in the dark; The tower of the old parish church rises like my heart Above the ancient pines that line the lone road home; The college, whose yellow light-filled windows reflect The yearning of the young for the wisdom of the old, is quiet; Bowdoin Chapel tolls the hour and my watch softly chimes The same as … Continue reading The Gazebo
Reposted from 2015 My mind is soothed by the sight of the sea, and the sound of her waves breaking upon the ancient, granite bones of this world. My skin is caressed with a blanket of fragrance laid upon me by the smells of the sea. The call of the deep tugs at my heart and beckons, “Listen to my voice.” I am terrified by … Continue reading The Sea and Me
The Navy was not all fun and games. Official orders to report for Sea Duty carried the note that the duty was considered arduous, meaning the Sailor could expect to be deployed away from home base for any length of time, and as often as deemed necessary by the Navy. This was no surprise to the Sailor, especially one coming off of a cushy shore … Continue reading Sea Duty
The tall, white mountain beckons, beckons me across the years to return, calls me to climb again his steep, rocky face by the trail beside the stream. The stream of cold, cold water that rushes down the mountain much faster than I will ascend the mountain, rushes by with a gurgle, a gurgle as if laughing at my slow, halting progress. Progress marked by lungs gasping for … Continue reading Old Speck
I love to sit on the rocks at Ka’ena Point, and Wonder at the beauty of the sea; I love to stand atop Old Speck, and Gaze in awe at God’s handiwork about me; I love to lie in the open field Near Spencer Pond at night, and Ponder the vastness of the universe Spreading out before and beyond me; I love the simple joy … Continue reading I Love To Sit On The Rocks At Ka’ena Point
Writers Envy 