An Artist, Photographer, Writer, Poet

Daily Archives: January 23, 2012

Toddlers first tip toe
then get their new running shoes
new task excitement
First loves tip toe first
learn to trust and pick up speed
Love learns to walk/run
Bullying people
want you to tip toe with words
Tell them: fly a kite
Protect your love first
Not on tip toes, be firm/act
Love survives, secure
Love that lasts decades
tip toes thru troubles holding
each other tightly



My favorite tree at Schoodic Point, Acadia National Park.


The road goes right along side my tree...the pink granite below is a lure for tourists of all ages.


The pink granite and the magnificant waves. On stormy days, the waves come up over the granite onto the road.


We were asked to write our perception of a memory knowing that
others may have a different perception of the same event.
I have visited this particular place many times with many people.
Some people know “where” if I say I want to visit “my” tree


There’s a tree,
a singletree,
at Schoodic Point,
Acadia National Park.
I first met her when I came
to Maine forty years ago.
There was something about her,
and I visit when I can.
Her branches sweep back,
like long hair blowin’ in the wind.
Each visit is different,
depending on the weather,
season, tourists,
local visitors to the park.
Some times of the year
are more tranquil than
Awe inspiring waves
from passing storms,
guarantee a crowd,
rangers watching so
no one goes too close.
Surrounded by huge, chunks
of granite in various shades
of pink, carved by icebergs and
stormy weather……..
a necklace of small purple flowers
around her neck with birds sitting
on the tips of her branches,
observing the scene,
and chipmunks chasing thru
her limbs and branches.
If I time it right, there are the
tiniest Japanese Iris’ and
small yellow flowers whose
name I don’t know,
tucked between the
granite slabs.
I talk to my tree…she’s faithfully
there, year after year:

I’ve sat with you on foggy days,
when one can barely see the sea.
And on sunny days, we’ve watched
in fear as the tide comes in,
children  jumping from rock to rock
at waters edge.
You were alone when the lady
fell, swept out to sea.
What a sad day
that must have been.
Life has changed at the point.
The Bluenose ferry, now retired,
no longer travels along the horizon
back and forth between
Bar Harbor and Canada.
My grandchildren
now come to visit,
feeding seagulls
who are waiting for
and popcorn
to fly in the air….
you must laugh
when a seagull swiftly
steals an unguarded
sandwich from someone’s
lunch or snack.
Do you remember the day
the seagulls swooped down
scaring my Mother ?
She retreated into the car
saying unkind things to
my father who was encouraging
the seagulls to eat bread
out of his hand.
I’ll be back
to sit and remember,
or maybe paint
another portrait of you,
as we watch the tourists
look in awe,
at the powers of the ocean.
Children still play in the puddles
of water that was left
by the incoming tide…
the same puddles that the birds
or seagulls bathe and play in.                                                                                                                            Why does this make me laugh ?

You’ll still be here
long after I’m gone
from this earth.
Tourists will come,
sit in your shade
while children run playfully
and laugh…
I can hear them now.
The seagulls,birds,
and chipmunks will
come to play
in your flowing 
I’ll return
as long as I can…
sitting on the granite
on the edge
of the road.
We can visit.
It will be good
to spend time
with an old and
dear friend.