Morning walk before daylight, long straight
Stretches of South Lubec Road, quiet eastern
Corner of Maine, outshining familiar stars,
Bright full moon cast shadows as I stride
Towards Quoddy Head Lighthouse. Past
First predawn houselights, morning clouds.
Here, sight travels across Bay of Fundy to
Distant Grand Manan. My walk full of smells
And sounds, wind and waves, coffee perking,
Breakfast cooking, country kitchens warm.
Yet, I can see my breath this morning, gloves
Warm my hands, adjusting to advancing Maine
Winter, where this road will have snow piled
High on shoulders, four-by-four vehicles
Breaking predawn crunchy pathways. This
Morning pavement is underfoot, able to keep
Brisk walking pace, as I pass houses, some
Built next to road, others lost down wooded
Lanes, peering into dark bay waters.
Here at Quoddy Lighthouse, I pause to retie
Shoelaces, watch for spouting finback whales,
Contemplate working on Fundy Bay. Maine
And Grand Manan lobstermen taking to these
Inky waters, dangerous waves and tides. Out
Beyond my sight, lies watery border with
Canada, grey zone where lobstermen and
Women of both countries soak their traps,
Polyballs attached to warps deep and strong.
Up and back, I take this south-projecting road
My connection with two homes, Maine and
Canada, lacework of islands and ferry boats,
Family on each side of the border, relationships
Standing since ancestors landed on these hills.
All these things I ponder on my morning walk,
Under brightest, closest moon in ages seen,
Commanding light I will miss on frosty nights
Along this familiar stretch of lighthouse road.
Morning walk with full moon, twitter followers,
and poetry as my companions.