"Isolation of Maine islanders, no food or mail from mainland..."
“Isolation of Maine islanders, no food or mail from mainland…”

Cold nights on Gulf of Maine, ice formed in
Blustery lobster bays, around windswept
Spruce-clad islands, watery film, gathering
Few moments, stretching, dissolving next.
To pipe-smoking old-timers who worked
And knew these dark-waters, early brash
Ice meant winter would be tough, boats
Frozen in place, diesel gelling in fuel lines,
Batteries dead, plumbing frozen.

Few pipe puffs, discerning eyes deep-set
In weathered faces, thoughts extending
From Nova Scotia to meandering Maine
Coastlines. Between slurps of coffee, first
Lobsterman spoke, “This winter won’t be a
Ferry ride.” Nods followed by spoon-stirring
Rings of coffee mugs, first bites of fried
Blueberry muffins. School boys in 1950s,
They remembered the “Great Blizzard.”

As much sudden as unexpected, deep winter
Ice formed, mercurial window glass, glint
Of slow-rising sun, spread across island
Thoroughfares, rising and falling with boat
Wakes, rising rhythmic waves, in and out of
Harbours, dispersed by wind and tide. Yet,
cake ice stopped boat travel, hard descent
Into frozen months, isolation of Maine
Islanders, no food or mail from mainland.

"Memories resurrected from childhood depths..."
“Memories resurrected from childhood depths…”

Memories resurrected from childhood depths,
Another lobsterman agreed, “Bays and rivers
Froze, islands and mainland were covered in
Feet of snow.” At night, pack ice moaned along
Pressure seams. Desolation reigned from
Stonington to Lubec, blizzard struck hard, roads
And homes buried in wind-blown snow, lost in
Fog. Mainers stocked up on firewood and food
As they braced for another white hurricane.

For more on historical Maine snowstorms, see this link:

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