I've rolled out to sea on a downwind roar,
many a time to wash up on the same broken-down shore.
The lighthouse marks entry to a harbor of protection,
but this time I'm sailing in a different direction.
Yesterday I biked almost 25 miles along the Maine coastline stopping only for lighthouses, ice cream, and a lobster roll. I made up that little stanza above for fun during some of the long miles, but the truth is, if I had the chance in Maine, I'd drop sails and stay awhile. It seemed to me the kind of place you could find yourself anchored at the heart.