Bar Harbor Morning

first draft

Bar Harbor Morning

I stand here at the railing, hashing through my thoughts with a cup of tea.
The heavy mist wrapping itself around the island, ensuring the delay of my departure.
The return airline ticket will deliver me back to perpetual sunshine and sandy beaches
But this, this is my home.  My soul rest here, this is my heart space.
The moment I arrived I knew that I would never been more at home anywhere else.
My gypsy spirit will carry me far, far away. But this is where I always want to be.

The lupines dusty hues of purples, pinks and whites sway in the sea salt breezes. These
Weeds bring me such delight. I think of them as sentinels standing along the roadside
Heralding me home. Their joyous announcement of my return carried up to the chickadees playing among the branches of the majestic pines. I want to fill each vase, cup and bowl with them. Press them between the pages of the books pilling up in front of the bay window.

I hear the lonesome ringing of the buoy’s bell , as it sways back and forth just beyond the waters edge, gentle waves lapping against its red pot-bellied bottom, rapping out a rhythm to the chime. Ding…..Ding….Ding.  The distant fog horn of the incoming Lobster boat sounds it’s deep reply, casting echoing tones along the rugged shoreline. I taste the mist upon my lips, as I close my eyes and allow the solitude to seep back into my blood and claim me for its own. I am home.


 

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

God my friend this is so nice,i swear this is no story ,its pure poetry ,no one could describe his feelings or surroundings the way you do..
But this, this is my home. My soul rest here, this is my heart space.My gypsy spirit will carry me far, far away. But this is where I always want to be.
Weeds bring me such delight. I think of them as sentinels standing along the roadside Heralding me home..
Press them between the pages of the books pilling up in front of the bay window.
casting echoing tones along the rugged shoreline..
I taste the mist upon my lips, as I close my eyes and allow the solitude to seep back into my blood and claim me for its own. I am home.
God what a lovely write,you have a great poetic talent my friend ,those stories told like some great poetry ,how i loved this
wonderful write..

[Donni]

I returned home this past summer for the first time in 11 years.