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By Marla Rogers (1940-2014) daughter of Archford “Ted” Vernon Haskins, keeper of Maine’s Owls Head Lighthouse from 1947 to 1953.
We landed at the lighthouse
In the middle of the night.
No stars or moon were 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.
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.
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