there’s comfort..

          in knowing that some things remain the same            

spill

          summer in your house the morning light poured in spilling on the chenille like warm milk dishes clattering in the kitchen as you made breakfast          

in her house

          “Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs” ~ George Eliot            

drive in

        summer nights we’d pile in the back of dad’s station wagon in our pajamas equipped with blankets, pillows and paper bags full of junk food and fall asleep halfway through the feature            

of a barnacle to a ledge

                          “My attachment to the state is that of a barnacle to a ledge, the pull of the moon to the earth. Maine, because of its singular and profound beauty, is a place of worship without walls. I love it so.” ~ May Davidson