BAR HARBOR, MAINE

MOUNT DESERT ISLAND


Blue hills, leaves,
Pine and Birch
gold, crimson falling
Autumn's blush,
Winter's brutality.

The island, northeast,
frigid, frostbite upon
those unprepared.
Blasts of Atlantic storms
blanket snow rooftop to rooftop,

Brilliant snow descends to ice.
Streams become brittle,
sheets of glazed ponds are
the hobby of ice huts,
holes cut through eight inch ice.

In homes, fires are lit,
furnaces are lit, mudrooms
hold snow boots, school boots,
Heavy leggings, sopping, soggy
sweaters and lined coats.

Winter onslught has begun;
work diminishes, venison from
hunting week is butchered, wrapped,
basement freezers are stacked.
Deer scraped as summer
road kill feeds the locals.

Dusk and dawn are silent.
stars of snow appear from God.
He delights in swans
gliding upon the ponds.

Moonlight is fog sprinkled like cupcakes
sparkling in beauty.. An island owned by
pine and birch and maple, paradise
untouchable. Bar Harbor,
Acadia National Park,
Southwest Harbor, "backsiders" loving
land, where man is forbbidened to
change any leaf,
the carriage road will soon be closed
and Jordan Pond glassy in isolation.
Bar Harbor sleeps until summer.