Maine-bound

driving into storms
"wimple-shipers" slapping time
(the child in her sings)

she grew in this place
of grim pilgrim settlements
quaint villages now

white-steepled churches
in wild terrain or in towns
blueberries and god

rosehips and seaweed
pidgen-speaking lobstermen
ancient new english

we breathe salt, eat fish
admire authors, work hard
and keep to ourselves

we were bound for Maine
and to it, and then away
too restless to stay