Bar Harbor (v.a.)

I was in Bar Harbor earlier this month with my family and friends. The last time I visited Bar Harbor, I must have been about 12 or 13 years old. I had been camping with my family. I remember nothing of that visit, and yet everything. What I mean by this is that since that trip to Bar Harbor in my childhood, my ideal of Beauty in Nature has always been Acadia National Park -- without my being able to recollect any particular scene. I had forgotten everything about the park other than that, for me, it was the most beautiful spot on earth.

This time, we were visiting Bar Harbor in the off-season. There was practically no one around, either in the small town or on the trails of Acadia National Park. I had the sense that the entire island, the ocean, and sky were there just for me.

late afternoon sun --
lobster pots bobbing
faint odor of bisque

fin d’après midi
casiers à homard sur le quai
léger odeur de bisque

(n.b.: I changed the meaning of my haiku when I translated it from English into French because I wasn’t quite satisfied with « casiers à homard qui flottent », and « soleil de fin d’après midi » - I run out of breath just reading those long sentences aloud in French. What’s more, I like the image in the French version….)