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