Isle au Haut
…surging, lapping, thrashing tides, in and out
sharp cliffs, jagged stones, pinnacle precipices
and squeaky, tipsy, rounded rock beaches…
…careful footing is needed on hiking trails
a labyrinth of crisscrossing roots, stepping
up and down in boulder toeholds,
punctuated with mud and moss…
…straggly pines with clumped branches, nestlike but forlorn
oblivious of panoramic views from below and above
while limpid seaweed flotillas undulate
and driftwood tumbles in jumbled heaps
heedless of busy mosquitoes and squirrels…
… the sunsets blaze a path straight for me
perching as I wait for the last tints of the display, a finale
before sleeping deeply in the cool air of star-spangled nights
that brandish the milky way as a sword,
spattering constellations to the horizon…
…until dawn burnishes the bearded lichen tree trunks
orange in first light, and I emerge
to blue sky, sopping ground, and glowing grasses…
…the beauty here is underutilized with so few to see it
spiraling swirls of quiet time spawns, probing contemplation
and I listen beyond nature and even myself
as the northern breeze sweeps away
the sheen of cobwebs
from cognizant consciousness…
The mailboat has just arrived to pick us up.
Polly Castor
8/5/13
