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Click to view a pdf of this poem.
Imagine yourself at what feels like the edge of the world. Stretched before you is a vast canvas of blues and greens where sky meets mountain meets river meets field, a spiritual place that holds you in its power.

As you turn from the bluff's edge, imagine sounds: a dragonfly's drone, the clatter of bread pans, the strains of a piano melody, the lilting cadence of conversation.

Imagine a general store, town kids on bikes, a red geranium gracing a front porch, a steeple, a painter at his easel, roses climbing a picket fence, a delivery truck, a flag flapping in the breeze, an artists gallery, a neighbor walking her dog.

Imagine place where families gather, where their homes and memories lived there are the legacy on generation passes to the next. Imagine a town where celebrating the arts is a mission, not a happenstance.

Imagine a day you begin over coffee in a front porch rocker, and then take in a morning yoga class or a hike to see which of May's wildflowers have bloomed. Make a note to visit the Schoolhouse Gallery's newly mounted exhibit after you first try at throwing pottery in tomorrow afternoon's class. Walk your son to his weekly piano lesson and fine a quiet spot to read a chapter or two of this months' book club selection. In the Evening, take a bottle of wine to the neighborhood spaghetti supper where you debate the merits of Juliette Binoche as a stage versus movie actress. Stroll home under a jeweled night sky; open your bedroom window to the cool spring evening.

Imagine yourself in the middle of nowhere in the middle of everything.

Imagine Gorham's Bluff.