Marla Rogers was inspired to write this poem from firsthand memories of her family residing at Owls Head Light Station from 1947 to 1953. During this time, Marla’s father, Archford V. Haskins, was keeper of the lighthouse.
Owls Head Lighthouse aglow (Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.)
We landed at the lighthouse
In the middle of the night.
No stars or moon was shining,
Only the glow from the light.
Mattresses were lugged up the hill
And placed upon the floor.
Til morning came and with the light
We started to explore.
The ramp that headed up the hill
To fifty-two steps and there,
Low and behold the lighthouse stood
And we could only stare.
She wasn’t tall and majestic,
Like the lighthouses we had known.
But from that very moment,
I knew I had come home.
She stood one hundred feet on high
Way atop the cliffs.
The beauty that surrounded her
Was certainly nature’s gifts.
Marla Rogers with Owls Head Light’s fourth order Fresnel lens (Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.)
Penobscot Bay surrounded her
On all three sides and then
The fourth side was a forest
That soon became my friend.
Of all the places I have lived
None have felt quite right.
So if I can call anyplace home
It certainly is Owls Head Light.
Owls Head lightkeeper Archford V. Haskins and his daughter Marla Rogers who volunteers at Owls Head Lighthouse today (Photos courtesy of Marla Rogers & Bob Trapani, Jr. respectively)
Bethany G says
I love this poem Grandma! It is perfect!