"Old garages unlocked, part fishing station and workshop..."
“Old garages unlocked, part fishing station and workshop…”

Maine back roads, widening at the curve,
Disappearing into deep woods, houses built
On steep hills, along roadside, pavement
Turning into gravel, enough room for snow-
Plows and no more, narrowing to grassy
Lanes, named cottages on finger bays,
Secluded lives, call first, no one answers
The door when repairing piers, working
On boats, on back patios having coffee.

In fact, no one should be driving on their
Roads, everyone knows each other, cars
And pickups, skiffs and outboards, colour-
Banded lobster buoys, warps, and traps,
Old garages unlocked, part fishing station
And workshop, last remnant of first house
Built by grands, two generations past, age-
Old dedication to hard work, weathered
Cedar shakes, lined-face integrity.

September morning, first steaming breath,
Sweatshirt needed on water, summer over,
Fall lobster season beginning, days shorter,
As if earth’s compass turned, low-angled
Afternoon sun sets in southwest, shadows
Longer, sunlight and life different in Maine,
Up around Lubec, Bay of Fundy, islands and
Sing-song accents mingling on Canadian
Waters, parents living on Campobello Isle.

At 5 am, we broke 40 degrees, beautiful fall
Day, sun rising on misty Bay of Fundy, more
Twisting roads cut deep across marshlands,
Oft widening at the curve, pavement turning
Into gravel, winding to quiet fishing bays,
Boat docks, houses built at water’s edge,
Smoke lingering roof-high, few houses for
Sale, promise of sequestered life, private
Stretch of Maine back roads.

Impressions whilst driving on Maine back roads, up around Lubec,
winding round to Eastport, along U.S.-Canadian border. 

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