Up in mid-coast Maine,
Mountains mingle by the sea;
As the late-Spring blooms,
Lilacs linger with lupine,
Where Nature's brush paints her Muse.
The ocean's motion…
Shore birds fly by bell buoys…
Refreshing breezes…
Waves washing ancient granite…
A Natural gathering.
The soul absorbs it…
Touching eternal motions;
Spirits feel younger;
She creates her masterpiece…
On memory, her canvas.
June 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem