76 Comments

Inviting, “ it is clear to me

that there will be

no pavement in my Heaven”.

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thanks Stan.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

All of it, but this especially for me too. Gorgeous image.

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Right outside the cabin. Best bocce court ever.

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Thanks Patris.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

I’m giving up the news to live in this place. I think heaven must be right there, without a gate to get through.

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Yeah, I have been retreating from the news as well as I can. It's just so awful.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Im trying. I fail.

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Remember Samuel Beckett?

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How does he figure in here?

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Patris’s comment, “I’m trying. I fail” made me think of Beckett’s quote, “ Ever tried, ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

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That's a good statement. I have been failing better for a long time, top of the second rung...Ha. Where are those emojis when I need them?

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Paul must answer but I can’t help thinking he’s encouraging us.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

I think I’m failing better..

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Patris, this is Swans Island, Maine. Laurie does all the renting. One week up there is pretty amazing. Two weeks, twice as amazing.

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Wait - did not understand at first - where Laurie’s family is from? The photo of the moss and woods? Beautiful

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Yeah, they have a rough cabin on Swans Island and that moss pretty much surrounds it.

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I can only imagine how beautiful it is!

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Ive been in the wilds there many years ago - my closest friend for many many years was a Mainer (her family arrived in 1635). Found the folks generally cranky at first but wonderful if laconic as you got to know them. The ocean and coast line incredible. Did you swim? I thought it was freezing even in the summer

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There are a couple sandy “beach” places but that water is tough/cold. There is also a freshwater quarry that is nice swimming. All in all, a magical place you can only get to by ferry.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

When we were they it seemed to be to be very forbidding. But the kids were very little and must admit was worried about them so close to the water. Did you take the boys there when they were small?

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That's where Laurie and I spent our honeymoon. The boys have been going since being infants. We built a 12'x12' cabin 50' from the main house for privacy. It's very nice, very quiet, very simple. Games, singing, dancing. Pretty wonderful. One year I asked Brad and Will to join me and the three of us would write a poem together. I don't remember the occasion but here it is.

On Swans

Waking up on Swan’s

you are a child reborn.

Walk in the woods,

finding fairies among the moss.

Blueberries with grandma

gathered in the afternoon for

buckle at night

and pancakes at dawn.

Sleep sweeps over them

and the sun sweetly summons

freckles from their shy slumber.

Old dances are drummed

into the floor.

Laughter rises to the ceiling,

added to each year

till the rafters gasp

and the floorboards creak.

Cheer hangs in the air

like petals on a summer breeze,

wafting comfort and contentment.

On Swan’s that breeze

smells like heaven.

The ground holds your feet,

the sea takes your breath away

and the evening fire

gives it back.

On Swan’s there are

beds of clams,

beds of mussels

below beds of seaweed.

Inside there are bunk beds,

there are day beds,

beds for napping,

beds for reading,

beds for sleeping,

and just outside the window

lay the beds of moss.

The wind bends the tall grasses,

drawing arcs in the sand.

The tides carry in flat rocks

to be skipped in the quarry,

there to rest forever

among the rusted tools.

The morning sun paints

the walls till they glow.

The noon light dapples

through the birches

and sparkles in the harbor

like diamonds dancing

on a sapphire sea.

At the end of endless days,

after the walks, the swims,

the glorious naps,

the laughing dinners,

the evening games,

the dancing and dishwashing,

your eyelids cannot

hold open another moment.

The lights plays

along the cathedral ceiling,

this wood clad home

will cradle you

and you can surrender,

certain that this all

will begin again tomorrow.

By the Parker men

For their Parker gal

Summer 2016

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Jul 18Liked by Weston Parker

So you’ve experienced paradise.

What an absolute beauty.

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You've put into words what I've been trying to do since the weekend. It's just been too much.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Wow. I live on the very mossy west coast of Canada and I have never seen moss as deep and lush as your poem describes. Nice job.

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There are spots, when I was putting in posts for a little building, where it was almost 8" thick. That island sits in heavy fog for a good amount of the year.

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I love it.

"Barefoot, your feet thank you,

singing your praises

from the bottom

of their souls."

You can be such a ham...😍

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That is very true and thank you for noticing, we hams depend on it.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Oh, to lie down in the moss ... "world of whorls, endless lace and lattice."

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and we always play bocce in it as well, such fun.

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Ooooooh how glorious. Reminds me of my time in the redwoods doing exactly this. Sinking my face and body deep into the moss. Absolutely heaven.

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really quite magical, and that photo is just outside the cabin on the island in Maine

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Lovely. My retreat from he news demands I go find some moss in which to frolic!

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Cheryl, you could always rent my wife's family cabin on the island in Maine. We have played some crazy games of bocce in the moss.

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I’m going to remember this!

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Jul 17Liked by Weston Parker

Moses lives mostly in Maine because of moss

He parted the Red Sea

What did he see

A green sea he saw

mainly of moss

The most moss Moses could make out

Made Moses merry

Mirthful Moses zippy, zappy and zingy.

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I like that one Jack.

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Golly I love this one! One of my favorite things in the world is a mossy patch in the forest.

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I agree, moss is just a carpet of green magic. When the kids were tiny I made a small fairy house. That was a big hit. My mother in law set out a tiny fairy mailbox and put treats in it left for the kids by the “fairy”.

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that sounds so beautiful and magical. I love that. Everyone needs a little magic. a little dancing fairy to visit.

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Amazing. Moss has had its way here and with you. I'd surmise this is a sort of rain forest, correct?

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It is one a island about 6 miles off the coast of Maine, gets a great deal of fog

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I’m crying.

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Aw, that makes my day truly, thank you Lisa

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Jul 20Liked by Weston Parker

I have always loved moss too! Thank you for this poem and prayer!

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Thanks for reading David.

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I'll take moss paved streets over gold paved streets all days of the week!

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Definitely.

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Jul 19Liked by Weston Parker

You had me at carpenter. Moss is the cherry on top.

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Glad to have you as a reader, Ian.

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This is delicious, Wes!

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Thank you Elizabeth, I'm glad you liked it.

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i could smell this mossy poem and what a delight!

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Thank you Mo.

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