Spring rain on Isle au Haut, sweet sounds
As long drops through forest move, ferns
Breeze dancing in pouring approach. I’m
Home today, old sofa on screened back
Porch, sleeping bag, favourite pillow, as
Cloudy mist descends, damp melodies
Played aloud on rust-streaked metal roof.
Sleeping in island arms, air-clearing scent
Of spruces, dozing moments, 20 minutes
Or two hours, mind given to dreams, mother’s
Memories, island woman, family, another
Hard winter endured, passing pages on the
Calendar, distant revving of diesel engines,
Boats leaving, mail-boat from Stonington.
I remember being young wife, romping on
This porch. In quiet solitude, I slip off my
Flannel PJ bottoms, sweatshirt, underwear,
All thrown on floor. Joys of free-moving
Warmth as more rain drums down, screen
Streaking, dripping on me, splashing on
Island foundation of mossy granite rock.
My sons nearly grown, I remember when we
Made the first one on this porch, no accident,
Deliberate baby-making thrusts, messy going
In, more so when he came out. He rode at my
Breast for half boat trip to our island home,
mother’s milk in his marrow, he’ll never leave
Maine, sternman working several days a week.
First glimmer of sunny breaks, up-reaching
Forest ferns, I gather my sopping wet clothes
and make quick dash inside, start morning
Chores. My cup of coffee stone-cold, how long
Did I dream in my sleeping bag, 20 minutes or
Two hours? Not long enough and too long for
This Mainer woman to tell.
About half of Isle au Haut (pronounced “Hoe”), or
~2,700 acres, is under Acadia National Park ownership. The park consists of numerous hiking trails through the
forest and adjacent scenic rocky shores.