Poetry from my Down East Days

Though I have lived in the landlocked Midwest for nearly twenty years, I spent the summers of my girlhood Down East, on a little island off the coast of Maine.

Even after I went to college, my family and I continued to visit the island every July, and there I found lots of “scope for the imagination,” as Anne of Green Gables said. I wrote many stories and poems during those summers, and the following is one that was published in a regional poetry collection. I followed the dictum “write what you know,” and at eighteen…this was what I knew.

Spruce Head

In the bay

The water is ageless and deep,

Sable and smooth,

And the moon

Pours a path of cool white light.

The night

Surrounds with liquid sounds

Of wind and water

And distant laughter.


Across the way

Windows frame the golden light

Of families in their tiny worlds,

Togetherness their sun and stars.

Children’s voices I hear

High and happy, carrying clear

Across to where

I wait for my own

Family to come home.


My husband and I have been fortunate to visit Maine several times, and he snapped the picture of our kiddos and I at Pemaquid Point. I’m so fortunate, so utterly blessed, to have my own little family now, togetherness our sun and stars.



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