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Posts Tagged ‘Maine’

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It’s not the boundless sea
That matters much to me,
But waves upon this strand
Here as I toe the sand.

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The photo is mine, of Sand Beach in
Acadia National Park in Maine.

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2020.

 

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Tide goes to
Line in the water,
No farther.

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The photo is mine, of a line in the water that I thought might be a tidal line
near the Penobscot Narrows Bridge in Maine.

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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Wind and cold,
Cadillac Mountain –
Warm sunset.

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The picture is mine, taken on Cadillac Mountain in
Acadia National Park in Maine.  It is indeed the highest
point along the North Atlantic coast at 1529 feet.  From
Oct.7 to March 6, it is the first place to view the sunrise
in the United States.

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2019.

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The waves curl;
Then they hit the beach
And – thunder!

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The picture is mine, of Sand Beach in Acadia National Park in Maine.

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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A seagull,
From his pestering,
Is resting.

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The photo is mine, taken in Acadia National Park in Maine.

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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monarch

Image by Aunt Owwee via Flickr

 A Thousand Miles Of Hell

The butterflies are drifting south,
   At twenty miles a day –                               *
Soft monarchs, silken kings on wings,
   Hardy travelers, they.

From far away as Canada,
   And east as far as Maine,
They migrate south through Texas skies
   To Mexico to hang

There on oyamel trees, their firs,              **
   Their coats for winter’s cold
That they ne’er wear, but rather coat,
   As they cling close, wings fold.     

As if the journey weren’t enough,
   They face another foe,
Which waits them, new, in Texas climes,
   A line like Maginot.

The drought has robbed the Texas store.
   Supplies?  There’s none to sell.
Food, water scarce, there’s nothing but
   “A thousand miles of hell.”                         ***

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* They actually average about 25 miles a day (poetic license!).

** oh YAH mel, a Mexican fir tree

*** “A thousand miles of hell” was a phrase used by an insect ecologist named Chip Taylor, as quoted in the article whose link is below.  Since Texas is not a thousand miles across, he was including the part of Mexico they will have to traverse before reaching their hibernating grounds.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/can-monarch-butterflies-make-it-through-texas/2011/10/07/gIQAEt8ySL_story.html

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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