Here is a poem written by the owner of Lyford Cottage describing her time at the cottage ~
A place beyond the rounded,
where boats can rest and oars dry out;
where terns and cormorants
dive into a calmer sea past the heavy tides
where lobster boats putt-putt across the bay
checking their pots and moving on.
Ducks ignore them
swimming in a row, diving now and then
heads disappear and reappear.
Loons let out a hoot, not quite a laugh,
more like an harrumph.
The back bay moves more slowly
with the sea’s ebb and flow,
than at the sea wall where waves crash
and spill over.
The noon sun hits the water
in sharp, sparkled points
as though each light dances
on the edge of a ripple
and the whole bay becomes a sea of
illuminated visitors from another place.
A sailboat glides past the cove
heading for an island
so small only nesting sea birds stop by
to visit a tired pine
unanchored in the sandy soil.
the island adds depth to the scene
of Blue Hill Bay across Duck Cove,
beyond far off pines, rooted more securely,
like a deep blue-green fringe of tree tops,
even in a foggy mist, crying out from afar,
.by Jean Lyford