Maine 4th Of July Poem

by Tara
(Frederick, MD, USA)

Our day begins at dawn. The Maine air is cool and crisp, the tang of salt wafting from the bay. For city dwellers like us, it is almost like being in a foreign land. But for us children, it is also the 4th of July.

We've been coming here as long as we can remember. And the rituals, the smells, the tastes make us anticipate the 4th of July fireworks.

We start with bear claws and donuts. There's a bakery we know, hidden away from the casual tourist. The pastries are good, better than average. But it's eating them outside, watching the birds, that makes them special.

The day is spent wandering the shops and the beaches. Boothbay Harbor caters to the tourist, but it is neither large nor well known. And we walk every street like we own it.

For lunch, there is Brud's. If the pastries made our mouths water, Brud's is what we live for. The hot dogs are served from a cart, just as they have been for over 50 years. He's always on the move, so catching up to him adds a sense of the hunt to the meal.

When darkness begins to fall, we snag blankets from our room and grab the best lawnchairs in the courtyard of our bed and breakfast. It is our favorite place to stay because it is up on the bluff, overlooking the bay at the precise point the boats will stop to shoot off the fireworks.

This is our favorite part. The booms echo around us, the shards of colored fire exploding in the air almost on top of us. No one in the world has ever had a better view.

When the sky is silent again, we stay outside for a final snack on the treats collected during the day. We tell stories of our previous trips, sharing memories both treasured and embarrassing. Then it is time for bed.

We'll still be here tomorrow, but it won't be the same place for another year.

4th of July In Maine

In July there's a family who stares
at the lights over water which flares.
The locale might be wrong,
but they feel they belong.
This whole country is ours they declare!